Damaged People
by Daydreamishly
Summary: The world underwent an abrupt transformation. Alchemy was nonexistent. Wars were stopped. The military no longer ran the world. And Edward Elric... was a junior in high school? Teacher!RoyxStudent!Edward; Self-inflicted AU.
1. We're damaged people

**Damaged People.**

OR

**Each Occupation has its Hazards, and You Happen to Be Mine.**

_We're damaged people.  
__Drawn together,  
__By subtleties that we are not aware of.  
__Disturbed souls,  
__Playing out forever,  
__These games that we once thought we would be scared of._

Prologue. Initial Exchange.

He paces back and forth, the utter epitome of anxiety. Central Headquarters' military hospital waiting room is around him, but he is in his own world. The room is fairly empty. The only other occupants of this room are a family of three. The smallest of that family, a young girl around three or four with curly blonde hair, is staring at him, or rather his arm. He realizes on a higher level of consciousness that he never reverted it back from its blade form, but does nothing about it. There is nothing he is physically capable of doing, besides pacing. He wonders vaguely why this has to happen him; hadn't he lost enough already? He frowns and pushes the thought away of what he'll do if everything turns out for the worst in there, behind the mysterious doors that led to the emergency rooms.

A doctor emerges from the realm beyond those double doors. Edward pauses in his despondent movements to cast a hopeful eye on the medic. The medic glances at the boy, looking him up and down, but averts his eyes quickly as he continues to the family. Edward sighs, and continues trekking about the waiting room. He hears rather than sees the doctor utter a few low words to the family, and the woman, a blonde lady with a nose identical to the little girl's, bursts into tears. He turns to face them, retracing his steps, and can tell, however, from the relieved grin on the man's face that they are happy sobs. The doctor motions his thumb towards the doors, and the woman nods eagerly. The doctor smiles faintly and crosses back through the gateway that Edward longs to breach. The family follows shortly, the woman reciting the room number of their loved one over and over aloud. He nods at the tall, thickish man as they pass.

These people, he knows, are exceptions to the rule of this waiting room. The unwritten rule that says those who enter shall not leave happy. In the past hours, he'd seen women break into pieces, children have to ask if their parents are better and then see the confused look on their face at the negative, and boys around his age lash out at messengers of bad news. He wonders if he would react like this. He shakes away the thought again, and turns to claim the family's vacated chairs. His brother does not know about the assassination attempt yet, but Edward can't stand the thought of missing news while he is calling the boy at their friend's Risembool home. So he waits eagerly in his too-bright blue plastic seat. The pristine atmosphere of the waiting area holds o distraction for him, so he watches the young man behind the desk for a while. The boy is around seventeen or eighteen, just older than himself. He has dark red hair and flawless skin. He is reading a science fiction novel, completely unaware to the depressing nature of the room around him. Under different circumstances (_circumstances_, he reminds himself sternly, _in which I wasn't _taken), he might have been attracted to the boy. It was a fact little known that the FullMetal Alchemist, "Hero of the People", preferred men. (_Or rather_, he again tells himself, _one man in particular_.) At the moment, however, this boy was not of any extreme interest. Getting information out of the doctor that had just came into the waiting room, however, was.

The doctor makes quick, determined steps towards the boy he could only assume was Major Edward Elric's direction. This was the part of the job the doctor had never cared for. Edward stood up as the doctor neared.

"Any news, doctor?" Edward asks hopefully. He looks expectantly at the older man, who in turn adjusts his glasses.

"Well, yes." The doctor finally responds, avoiding the subject. He coughs, and then says in a calm, yet not exactly kind voice "We, or, well, er, I regret to inform you, Mr. Elric, that your, ehm, commanding officer didn't make it."

Edward stares. He realizes that though he had seen the doctor's lips moving, he hadn't quite computed the noise that had come from his mouth. "How's that, doctor?"

The doctor sighs, and takes off his glasses entirely, and rubs them against his sleeve. Upon replacing him, he looks Edward square in the eye.

"You are the party accompanying Colonel Roy Mustang, are you not?" Edward nods his affirmation.

"We did the very best that we could, but with the pierce wounds directly through his heart like that, you know, there wasn't much that we could do."

Edward blinks once, twice. Does that mean...? It was all over? There was no hope left? He would never see the Colonel again?

"Oh." Edward says numbly. He shakes his head. He hadn't allowed himself to imagine the possibility that the colonel wouldn't make it, simply because it was too painful. Now he wasn't quite sure what reaction to have.

"Yes," the doctor replies, looking at him strangely. "Listen son, are you sure you're alright? Do we need to get someone to take you home?"

"No, I'm fine." Edward lies. He knows perfectly well that he isn't alright, because no one who was even halfway sane acted like this in the middle of a crisis. The doctor looks at him uncertainly, adjusting his glasses again.

"There are very many fine individuals in the military, son. Your new commanding officer will, I'm sure, be just as fair." The doctor says awkwardly. He hadn't gone into this profession because of his people skills, that was certain. Edward fights back a snort at the man's ignorance. Roy had been more than a commanding officer, after all.

"Right. Okay." Edward nods instead. "I guess I'll go home now."

"Ah, well, ah, alright then, I suppose." The doctor says. He adjusts his glasses once again. Frowning, Edward reaches over and plucks the glasses from the man's face. He silently drops them to the ground and steps on them as he exits out the main entrance to the hospital's emergency care center. The doctor stares after him in disbelief.

The journey back to his place of residence was either very short, or very very long. Home it could no longer be called; his home had just died for the second time in his life with the existence of an older loved one. His thoughts consumed him, but more flashes than gave him solid moments to make opinions from them. He was in shock, to say in the least. He reached their military housing, a rather nice, if not original town house located on base. It was one of the nicer buildings because of Mustang's rank; Edward would only have earned himself a shabby apartment in the military dorms. The front door was locked, but Edward didn't bothering going around the house to grab the spare key. He used his arm, still transformed into a blade, and sliced the hinges in half. The door fell forward, and Edward stepped on it as he entered the peculiarly silent home. He hadn't been here in over three weeks, but the familiar setting brought him no solace. Without transmuting the door back to it's proper state, he could feel the night air sweep around him in the foyer. It registered in his mind among the thousands of pixel-like thoughts in his head that it was dark. He went into to living room and started a fire in the fireplace, painstakingly slow. His handiwork finished, Edward retreated to a blue sofa that sat opposite the fireplace, where he and Roy had spent several nights after a hard day's work, talking, bantering, or just enjoying not being alone. Pictures littered the walls, a very small few of Al, Ed, and Winry as children- those he'd gotten from Pinako. A rather more few were of Roy looking solemn in various smile-less portraits of himself and an obviously well-off immediate family. The majority were of Roy and himself, laughing, at functions with friends, and in some cases just staring at at each other, or even kissing. Edward had said that those pictures, on top of being a danger to the safe-keeping of their secret relationship that only a handful of loyal friends could know about, were tacky and tasteless displays of affection. Really, he had just been shy. Roy had merely smiled and shook his head, hanging up an additional photo.

Roy, who was lost to him.

Roy, who had been murdered today.

Roy, who no longer existed.

He is suddenly plunged head-first into reality, and that reality was this: there was no such thing as Equivalent Exchange. He had lost his mother. He had lost his brother's body. He had lost his limbs. And at one time, he may have been able to tell himself that at least he had met Roy from this. But now even he was gone. And he had gained _nothing_.

_Oh god, Roy._

He sinks to the ground, his arms wrapped around his waist. He stares hopelessly at the wall in front of him, and the picture that meets his eyes projects a full-size Roy, posing as the picture holds him. He grins and then disappears. Each picture his eyes fall upon repeat the trickery, and then the images begin replaying, like a song on repeat, or a broken video. There are Roy Mustangs everywhere, in all directions ion the room, standing and grinning at him. He knows that it's just imagination, that these are hallucinations, so he does not chase after them. But they will not go away. They stay there, laughing, grinning, pointing, smirking. There is no sound, though. Edward stares at the ceiling, hoping to escape these eerie dreams. But they begin to close in on him, and his eyes begin to fill with tears. He blinks, and the tears fall, and suddenly there are no more Roys. They are all gone. The room is as it should be, dimly lit by the flickering flame.

But Roy is still gone.

This time, he can't stop himself, and he begins sobbing quietly.

_It's all my fault. If I hadn't insisted on going to Lior, he wouldn't have gone to protect me, and he wouldn't have been assassinated._

_If those homunculi had only not lured me back there, so they could get Roy out in the open._

_If alchemy didn't exist, the homunculi wouldn't be here in the first place. And Al's body wouldn't be gone, and I wouldn't have to wear this g'damned automail!_

He began pounding the ground. The world hated him. It had taken everything from him.

_If there wasn't any alchemy, none of this could have happened._

And a funny thing happened, then. Edward Elric's hands hit the ground, fingers splayed, and a light emerged from them. Suddenly, Edward Elric had the power to mold the world with his passion, though he didn't know it. Because, curiously enough, the only way Equivalent Exchange applies is if the alchemist believed in it. And though he'd been taught of it's existence all his life, Equivalent Exchange was now as dead to him as love was. The world underwent an abrupt transformation. Alchemy was non-existent. Wars were stopped. The military no longer ran the world. And Edward Elric... was a junior in high school?

---

A/N: Angsty, ne? I blame it on Conor Oberst. Bright Eyes music was my muse. Actually, not really. This is the second version of this chapter I've written, though the dialog between Edo and the doctor is pretty much word for word what was in the other one. This is a lot better, I must say. Anyway, I sincerely doubt that the rest of this fan fiction is gonna be quite so... waaah. Pity me and pretend that that made sense. And, ehm, if you love me, reviews? I add new chapter when I get reviews! 3

So uhm, yah, in conclusiiiiion!

Reading is good yes, but conversing is better, so click "submit review", or e-mail me a letter!


	2. Drawn together

Damaged People.

OR

**Each Occupation has its Hazards, and You Happen to Be Mine.**

Chapter One. Life, Two Point Oh.

Edward woke up drenched in a cold sweat. The dream again. The flashing lights and shredded flesh. Trying to resurrect his mother through some sort of magic. Losing his brother, and having to sacrifice another limb to attach his soul to a _suit of armor..._

Honestly, the imagination he could have sometimes.

Edward's nightmare had been a recurring one for several years, on and off. Usually, it would back off when he was busier and more exhausted, but in the lulls in between, as in summer, for example, the dreams returned, completely unwanted. He'd consulted a dream interpretation book once- the loss of his arm signified the loss of strength- that would be his father. The loss of a leg would be loss of support and movement, and movement is associated with joy and happiness. That would be his mother. Blood signified extreme disappointment. That's the one that puzzled him. Disappointment in his father, for leaving? Disappointment in losing his mother? Disappointment in himself, for not being a better caretaker for his brother? There was the light, which meant readiness to accept something and move on. Well, he couldn't move on. After the car accident, he'd lost everything he had left, besides his intelligence and own health. Well, that wasn't much, and it seemed to almost be deteriorating beneath the weight of his responsibilities.

Edward sighed, pushing away his thoughts. Looking at the clock, he realized he had only three hours before the first day of new term at school He really _had_ to get to sleep. Sighing, he let out a breath of air that was half a yawn. He was too busy falling back asleep to realize that said sigh sounded suspiciously like a name he hadn't ever heard before--

"_Roy." _

_---_

Edward woke up to light streaming into his room. He smiled slightly. The warmth reminded him of waking up years ago in bed cuddled next to his mother. Ed ward stretched leisurely and took his time opening his eyes. The first thing he say was his alarm clock.

_8:10._

"Damn it!" He groaned, jumping out of his bed and running to his closet. He managed to pull on a standard black band tee, baggy jeans, brush his hair, pull on his trademark white fingerless gloves, and shove a hair elastic around a ponytail (as opposed to his preferred braid) before he flew out the door two blocks to his bus stop.

"You could've woken me," he huffed to his younger brother as his slowed to a stop. Alphonse Elric gave an uncharacteristic smirk in response.

"I did." He said.

"You know that I don't wake up just to the sound of a voice," Edward countered.

"What am I supposed to do, then?" Alphonse asked. "_Jump_ on the bed?"

"You could yell, or _something_."Ed countered. Alphonse frowned, but let the subject go.

"So," Edward began. "Eighth grade."

"Yes." Al agreed with a shrug.

"Pretty big step. You'll be in high school next year."

"Yeah. Winry's a freshman this year." Al reminded him, always eager to point the conversation in the direction of their favourite girl. Ed nodded.

"Yeah, she is. You gonna be okay in junior high by yourself?"

"I have friends," Al said, almost defensively. This time, Edward is the one to let the subject drop.

"Speaking of Winry," he observed instead, looking around suddenly.

"She's still sick," Al said, sounding extremely disappointed.

"Sick. Right." Edward snorts. Winry Rockbell, he knew, was more likely to be skipping school to hang around with that _Havoc fellow,_ acting like a lovesick teenager. But, for his brother's sake, Edward kept this observation to himself. Winry was their closest friend, and always had been. She and her grandmother were the only people who knew the truth about Ed and Al's... living situation. Recently, however, even Edward couldn't miss the way his younger brother talked about the young, slightly-tomboyish girl.

"Remember, Brother? Pinako told me when we visited yesterday that Winry was sick?" Al insisted. Ed couldn't help but roll his eyes. His brother could be so completely naïve at times...

"Sure, Al." He agrees noncommittally. Al frowns. Luckily, before an argument can start, Edward hears his bus pulling up the street. It soon comes to a full halt in front of the bus stop, and Ed gets in line to board. He goes through the rows to the back of the bus, grabbing an empty window seat. The bus's wheels begin rolling again, and he waves to his younger brother. Al grins in response, the sun shining on his dirty blonde hair and silver wheelchair. Another bus would be by in a few minutes to take him and a few others to the junior high school.

'Please let him be okay today.'Edward thinks, very nearly praying.

---

"Amestris County Public High Schools  
Elric, Edward  
M – 15  
Grade: 11  
Homeroom: 319 Armstrong  
Locker: 200  
1 Period: Room 207 Adv. Algebra II  
2 Period: Room 210 Adv. Chemistry  
3 Period: Room 319 Driver's Education  
4 Period: Library Free Period  
Lunch B"

Edward Elric groaned at the formidable schedule before him. Even Edward Elric, boy genius, was intimidated by the thought of Chemistry and Algebra, one after the other.

"Hey, Edo-chan!" A voice chirped in his ear. Startled, he flew around, ready to attack the unlucky intruder.

"Winry?" He breathed. They were standing in the school's main hallway, watching their peers mull cheerfully around them, sharing the tales of their uneventful summers. "Where were you this morning?"

"What's your schedule?" She asked, avoiding the question. He handed her the paper. "Algebra? Haven't you passed that by now?"

"No. I only took one semester of math last year." He sulked.

"Hey, maybe you'll get that gorgeous new math teacher! I've only seen him once myself in passing, but he's pretty g'damn sexy..."

"You've been hanging around me too long, talking like that. The swearing, not the calling teachers sexy part." He added, brows furrowed. Winry giggled.

"I think he's your type. You should try to stop by his room sometime, eh, Edo-chan?" She grinned. Ed blushed.

"Don't call me that, Winry." He muttered.

"What, not going to fervently deny the gay thing anymore?" Winry grinned.

"There's no point, is there?" Ed frowned. "Most people have their mind up and..."

"And?" the female blonde pushed.

"And..." He paused, glancing away from her penetrating glare. "I'm not sure that the rumours are wrong, at this point."

Winry clapped her hands, eyes sparkling. "Aha! We've ridden ourselves of the denial, have we?" At this point however, the bell decided to cut the conversation short.

"Bye." Ed said hurriedly, snatching his schedule back. "Hope everything goes okay, Mechanic Geek."

"See ya, Brain Boy."

---

"Welcome, class, to Homeroom! As is tradition through the Armstrong line, I am dedicated to making this fifteen minutes your homeroom away from home! If there are any questions, please, do not hesitate to ask me!" Mr. Alexander Armstrong introduced himself. Edward had _several_ questions already in mind, a few being did he ever kill a man, did he brush his lone blonde curl every morning, and how Armstrong managed to get pink glitter to float around him when he posed like that. But, he didn't think that this would be a productive question, so he stayed quiet. Surveying the room, Edward saw no particularly friendly faces, though he saw many familiar ones. A few pointed at him and said things like _look, it's the genius boy_ and such nonsense. Edward frowned, not exactly used to the attention, despite the fact that he'd been getting it for years now.

Most people would guess that as a straight-A student, Edward Elric enjoyed school. After all, without the tediums of difficult tests and homework, what was not to like? Well, that theory proved, time in and time out, to be ridiculous. Edward had very few friends, and outside of his brother and Winry, no one he'd call close. School was a waste; he understood everything after having it summarized briefly. He had been moved to the seventh grade at the beginning of fifth, just before the accident. Now, the only reason Edward still bothered with school was because he knew that it was what his mother would have wanted.

"I'm passing out forms now, there's a bus form, a release form, and insurance form, a reduced price lunch form, a proper computer/library usage form, and there is also a tear-out sheet in the back of your handbook that needs to be signed." Armstrong said, somehow still sounding a little pompous as the class passed back said documents. Edward cast a bored glance upon each before in turn unceremoniously stuffing the papers in his book bag.

"I'm going to call roll now, and assign seats." Armstrong informed once the appropriate paperwork had been given out. There were twenty students total in the homeroom, last initials ranging from D to H.

"Elric, Edward?" Armstrong called off the paper he was holding. Edward lazily held up a hand and stood up. "Second row, fifth chair."

"Right." Edward replied off-handedly, ignoring the whispers that had sprung up at his name.

"Fuery, Kain?" Armstrong called.

"H-here." A voice called from the back of the room, and a group of obnoxious girls bust into laughter.

"Behind Elric." Armstrong informed him, ignoring the girls. Edward gave them a harsh glare, and a few quieted. The boy sat behind him, and Edward recognized the black-haired, bespectacled boy as a quieter member of Winry's boyfriend's group. Edward offered him a small smile as the bell rang and they exited the room.

"Hey, um, Elric-san, isn't it?" Fuery addressed him. Ed looked over his shoulder at the eager-looking teen.

"You can call me Ed," Edward said, shrugging. He hadn't expected his smile to spawn a friendship or anything, and he wasn't exactly sure what to make of Fuery's desire to bond.

"Ed, then," Fuery grinned. "What classes do you have this semester?"

"Advanced Algebra II, Advanced Chemistry, Driver's Ed, and then a free period." Ed said, reciting his already memorized schedule.

"Oh," Fuery replied, his face falling a little. "No classes together, I guess. What lunch?"

"B. How about you?"

"Same! Maybe I'll see you there?" He said. "Oh, hold on."

Edward found himself pausing as the older boy took a crumpled piece of paper out of the pocket of his blue jeans and then straightened his button-up blue-and-white striped long-sleeved shirt, with some big-name label or other printed over his heart.

"Room 308. This's my stop. See you, Ed!" And he consequently left Ed to fend for himself in the busy hallways. Ed groaned, hurrying to the stairwell. It was a congested area, and he wasn't able to reach his class until the bell had already rung. Therefore, it was a very harassed-looking Edward Elric that burst through the door to his first period Algebra II class as his teacher was scrawling something on the dry-erase board in front of the room.

"Glad to see you could make it, Mr..." a snide voice greeted him. Edward closed the door behind him and glanced into deep onyx eyes.

"Elric." Edward managed to gulp in reply, not able to tear his eyes away from the older man's. "I'm Edward Elric."

"Elric..." The man whispered under his breath. It sounded... familiar... He shook his head and pointed vaguely towards the students, who were watching interestedly. "Great. Take a seat."

"Yes, sir." Edward replied unusually compliantly. He stared at the floor as soon as the pair of dark eyes looked away from his.

"Right, as I was saying." The man said, apparently continuing a speech Edward had missed the beginning of. He was tall and rather pale, but not in a sickly way, per se. He seemed to carefully avoid Ed's eyes as he scanned the room, running a hand through obsidian locks oh hair. "I'm Roy Mustang, and I'm going to be your Algebra teacher, and quite possibly your worst nightmare this semester."

---

A/N: Okay, so, admittedly, not that much humor yet. Maybe I'll change the second genre to Drama. But I think it will be funny. And I've got pairings already in mind, and plots, and arcs, and _loads_ of great stuff. Reviews? I love them. Like, more than I love Roy Mustang.

Okay, that might be a lie.

But I really do love them. So, if you love me, review me. 'Cause, y'know, I think I deserve it. Except for the whole delay in chapter thing. Which I can explain, by the way. I got writer's block halfway through. It wasn't negligence, it was struggling. As in the first chapter, this was the second copy of this chapter that I worked on, and it's even more different than the second was. I'm not sure which I like better, but I'm leaning towards this one. I think I may use some of the scenes from the other copy, though, I had a few cute ideas. And, if you're wondering in the future why Havoc, Fuery, and a few more are teenagers in this while Mustang, Hawkeye, Armstrong, etc. are regular adults... Well... Just go with it, 'kay? And I really hope that teacher/student romances won't offend anyone. But then, I guess you wouldn't be reading if they did. Okay, review plzktnx! Oh, and if anyone who is experienced in fanfiction writing would like to be my beta, I would love you forever. An editor could come in handy, y'know? -TVG


	3. By subtleties that we are not aware of

A/N: Well, to tell you the truth, this has taken so long to get out because the arc that this chapter opens is going to be slow and cliché. Limited fluffiness; after all, Ed and Roy just met. This chapter in particular has got me in a puzzle, because there are several things that need to get accomplished and no good way to accomplish them that still flows well. First, I need to give you a picture of the rest of Ed's classes. Second off, I need to establish some sort of alliance between two characters that reflects an alliance in the anime. This, however, may have to wait. Thirdly and lastly, I must open the "Al's Troubles" arc. Yes, I've gone through and named all my story plots. This one is three chapters and terribly dull. I hope I don't lose your interest. This is the third copy of this chapter I'm constructing, the other two being flops. I'm taking a new angle with this one, though. You see... flashbacks are the new present tense.

Damaged People.

OR

**Each Occupation has its Hazards, and You Happen to Be Mine.**

Chapter Two. Suffer Well.

"You have got to be kidding me." was all Edward said as he flopped onto his bed, thoroughly exhausted from his first day back to school. He pinched the bridge of his nose as a tension headache that had been threatening him for the better part of the day attacked him full-force. His books were haphazardly strewn, half open and pages getting bent, in the middle of his bedroom's blue carpeting on top of some dirty laundry. He stared at the textured ceiling, where two or three stubborn glow-in-the-dark stars that his mother had simply insisted on putting up clung to, almost defiantly.

"Brother? Do you want dinner yet?" A voice asked from the door. Ed weakly lifted his head to look at Al's ever-sitting form at the doorway. Ed frowned, considering, while his younger brother's shy eyes peered back.

"No, I don't think so. I'm not really hungry tonight. Fix something for yourself and I might grab a snack later, or something. Close your door on the way out, if you would." Ed said gently. After today, it was almost as if his accustomed gruffness had been scared out of him to go on holiday.

"Alright, if you're sure, Brother." Al squeaked before wheeling away. Ed sighed and let his head plunge backwards into his pillow. It hadn't been an easy day. First off, sitting through that hour and a half of Algebra.

"I'm Roy Mustang, and I'm going to be your Algebra teacher, and quite possibly your worst nightmare this year," the man had said. "Algebra is, without a doubt, the single most tedious subject in existence. Or so I've been told. I never had a problem with it, which most people hate me for. But, regardless of how dull you may find this subject, I will expect each of you to complete a short assignment."

At this point, Edward could have sworn the older man's eyes flickered in his direction. Ed's own eyes narrowed at the memory. Was that bastard insinuating that he was _short_?

The rest of the class period had been miserable for Edward. He never got over the initial shock of encountering the oddly familiar man that made him want to rip out his own hair and draw little hearts around his name in the back of his notebooks at the same time. Ed snorted at this. With thoughts like that, it was no wonder everyone had thought of him as gay... Most of the class Edward had been content, or at least less embarrassed than any other option, to stare at a blue binder sitting on the desktop in front of him. Meanwhile, Mustang had let the class fall into a free discussion time, it being the first day and all, and even intervened in the students' conversations once in a while to make a witty remark here and there. He had all the girls giggling after him in no time, and if not encouraged their flirtatious advances, did nothing to stem the flow.

Ed frowned, glancing at his bedside alarm clock. The digital readout declared the time at seven thirty. Ed and Al had gone to Winry's after school and visited with Pinako, the woman that had been closest to a parent since their true guardian had died. Pinako was also the only adult who knew that Ed and Al were living alone, without mother or father, in that old house of theirs. She'd tried to convince the boys to tell the authorities or children's protective services or a social worker or _someone_ about their estrangement from a father that had been presumed to still be at home with the boys many times, but they had declined, saying that there was no way that Ed and Al would be lucky enough to stay together once they entered the infamous system of foster care, and that they could handle themselves anyway. Pinako would not force them, as their minds were made up, but she was by no means pleased with their situation. Well, she wasn't the only one not pleased with things, Edward thought bitterly, thinking back upon his day at school.

Right after the long first period of staring at that face and not being able to place it, and being fed up inexplicably quickly with Mustang's antics and at the same time a little charmed by him, Edward had quickly retreated to his locker. Which would not open.

"Dear mother of fucking God." Ed had cursed, spinning the combination to the steel contraption in front of him yet again.

"Locker troubles, Edo-kun?" A female's voice had accordingly barked happily into his ear. Edward jumped in surprise at the same moment he opened the locker door. Said door had sprung open, hit Ed in the face and ricocheted closed again. Ed had groaned and turned towards the offending newcomer.

"I took about five minutes getting that obstinate piece of shit to be cooperative." He told Winry. Winry grinned.

"Here, I'll make it up to you," she had replied, shoving him into some unfortunate bystander and proceeding to make quick work of opening his locker for him.

"How the hell... But it wouldn't before... You don't even know my combination!" Edward spluttered to Winry's smug face.

"I was across the hall with Jean. You were practically shouting the combination to yourself by the fifth attempt." She had, in turn, explained.

"And neither of you bothered to _help_ before then?" The outraged junior said through gritted teeth.

"Nope. So, how was Algebra?" Winry asked, smoothly changing the subject.

"The teacher's a stuck-up son-of-a-"

"Language, Elric." Said teacher had corrected as he happened to pass them down the hallway. Mustang had continued down the hall, wearing a not-so-subtle smirk.

"See? He's cocky and he _encourages_ those helpless brain dead girls in my class to fall in love with him," Edward ranted. Winry looked a little surprised.

"I don't think I've ever heard you defend a single girl from this school, including myself," she had pointed out. "So why be on their side now?"

"I don't know; the man just gets on my last nerves. I can't help that, can I?" Ed had countered, sighing as he watched leagues of teenagers pass, giggling, talking, or looking worried through the hallway. The hallway was white-walled with a giant blue (as was the Amestris High team colour) stripe expanding horizontally down the entire wall. The floor was the typical white and grey-paint splattered tile you'd expect to see in any public building.

"I guess not. But at least he's cute, right?"

"What's _that_ got to do with anything?" Edward had asked, exasperated.

"Nothing, really. I just want to hear you admit it."

"Feh. Typical woman, changing every last something into a romantic fancy of some sort or other. I don't have time for this. Classes, and all." Edward had said gruffly in response. He hadn't exactly been brushing her off, though. They really _had_ needed to get to class.

"Great, well, I've got a couple of classes at the technical school coming up, so I won't see you until the end of the day."

"Technical school? Like computer classes and building and stuff? What the hell sort of class are you taking, Rockbell?" The shorter blonde had asked, one eyebrow raised.

"Welding." The other replied, a manic gleam in her eye. She immediately thereafter skipped off to places unknown, rather to Edward's relief.

"Sane as a rabid _dog_, that one," Ed had muttered as he shuffled down the hallway towards his Chemistry class.

Ed's sour face softened a little at the thought of Chemistry. After all, that class hadn't been _so_ bad. The somewhat petite blonde teacher was stern, but she seemed kind enough. Named Hawkeye, Edward had appreciated her, and the liking seemed to be mutual.

"Right, then. You'll be the genius boy everyone's always told me about?" She addressed him on the first meeting. He averted his eyers and muttered assent.

"Well, that doesn't matter. I won't be going easy on you for it." She said indifferently, and it was only then that Edward met her eye.

"Good." He replied simply. And that was all it took. The woman allowed what Edward was suspicious of being a rare smile grace her features. Edward had found himself smiling in response.

It was nice, Edward thought, to not be wondered at like some animal in a zoo for once. He presently rolled onto his stomach and crossed his arms over his pillow, lying his chin on them as he stared out his window's open blinds. There was a couple walking a large dog. A bird flew from the tree in his front yard to a telephone wire. A car drove by. Edward winced. Car.

Driver's Education was the only class that had started into material on the first day. It was basically a load of protocol, but Ed had found his attention slipping.

"Edward. Ears open," The teacher had had to say to him, not unkindly, several times, yet to no avail. Edward still had no idea what they had covered in that class, his thoughts consumed by dark, flashing eyes...

"Yessir, Mr. Hughes." Ed had said in reply each time. The man had nodded amiably and continued going over rules and such. Edward would have a lot of reading to do if he was going to be ready for the small quiz that was to be expected tomorrow morning. He didn't want to bother, though. He was completely tired, and wanted nothing more than _sleep_. Even though he hadn't eaten since lunch, not even an appetite could rouse him at this point.

Speaking of lunch. What an awkward affair that had been. Edward had entered the cafeteria, bent on finding an empty table to read, like he'd done since the first day of freshman year. There was no such table. Damned freshman and their tiny groups all over the place.

Edward reluctantly found a seat next to an annoyingly inquisitive Winry, and across from a beaming Fuery at the picnic tables outside. Edward hated the outdoors. The table he was at, in particular, had people swarming over it, eager to get a word in with good ol' Jean and Heymans, hey, we're seniors now, can you believe it?, one year left, man, just one more year!, hey, what's this, you finally got a girlfriend, Havoc?. It had been a loud forty-five minutes. Worse yet, Havoc, Fuery, Winry, and a few random passerby kept trying to make _conversation_ with him. Didn't these people know that lunch was about relaxing and pretending that you weren't stuck in the same room for an hour and a half with a bunch of brain-dead, inbred, overfed, hoping-to-be-wed, annoying-to-Ed bitches and sons thereof?

Ed grumbled incoherently. There was no way in _hell_ he was repeating that experience. He'd rather sit in the fucking restroom the entire half-period. Luckily, if all else failed, he still had his free period in the library to relax. That day, fourth period had gone by uneventfully as he slept the entire class through, only to be rudely awakened by the bell. Instead of catching the bus home, he decided to walk next door to pick up Al from school. Which brought him to the very worst part of the day. Edward had walked up to the familiar junior high school, bent on finding his brother to see how his day went. He went to a few of his old hangouts, and finally found Al, sitting solemnly in his wheelchair. And yet, Al was not alone.

"That's it, Elric. I'm tired of you smarting off." The boy was younger than Al, by the looks of things, but he had a clear advantage in not being crippled. The young black-headed boy pointed a finger accusingly at Al, and Ed made to intervene.

"You and that faggot brother of yours. I'm going to kill you. I'm going to bring a gun to school and kill you both," the boy said threateningly. Ed rose an eyebrow, and hung back. His mistake, he thought this was an actual _threat_. Someone with that little brain couldn't possibly be. Besides, the arrival of the "faggot brother" at this point in time could only make things worse.

"Go away, Joel." Al said tiredly. The boy nearly roared in response.

"Who do you think you are, Elric? Telling _me_ to go away? Have you forgotten who my father is?"

"Have you forgotten who _mine_ is? I bet the press would love that, Joel. Imagine, his crippled son, getting attacked by a bully. Your father would have no _choice_ but to expel you." Al said calmly. Ed grinned with pride from his watching place. Guessing that his brother had this battle covered, Ed moved to a location more discreet, lest he be sighted.

"Oh, tsk, tsk, Alphonse. Lying to me? Don't worry, I'll forgive you for being ignorant." The boy called Joel had said, making an attempt of being condescending. "I know your father left you. Years ago. You're all alone. Your father probably would deny that you were his son, given the chance."

Al and Ed blanched. Where had this little freak...?

"Name your terms." Al had said evenly.

"I want money." Joel replied. "Or I'll tell everyone and anyone about the fact that you and your brother slash boyfriend or whatever the hell he is are living alone."

"Fine." Al spat. "How much?"

Joel blinked, not having thought this far.

"Ten dollars," he had said slowly, as if testing the sound of it. He nodded firmly, apparently liking what he heard. Ed had fought the urge to snort, loudly.

"Ten dollars it is." Al had said gravely. Ed suppressed laughter. This was the single most incompetent bully in existence, it seemed. Ed chose this moment to reveal himself.

"Hey, Al. What's up?" He had chirped, coming to his brother's side. Alphonse looked startled.

"N-nothing, brother!"

"Ugh." Joel had said in utter disgust at the sight of them. "Remember, Al. Tomorrow."

"Yeah." Al had agreed quietly. Edward was at a loss here. Was he supposed to let them know he knew what they were talking about? Something about the uncomfortable look Alphonse wore on his face told him no. But that didn't mean he wouldn't give Al an opportunity to confess th honest way.

"What's tomorrow?" Ed had asked as he started walking. Al wheeled along after.

"Huh? Oh, we're doing a project. He's doing half. It's due tomorrow." Al had said automatically. Ed blinked. Had he not seen that scene before his own eyes, he would've accepted that as the truth. How had Al gotten so good at lying to him?

"Oh. Okay." Edward had replied uneasily. Hey, if Al didn't want him in his business, he didn't want him in his business. It's not like they told each other everything. It's not like Ed was dying to tell his younger brother about the mysterious sudden attraction he had found for his Algebra teacher that morning. They talked about school and life and family and friends, but some things were just their own private business that didn't need sharing.

Except, to the moment Ed couldn't accept that something this big was being hidden from him. Did this happen often? Is that why Al was able to lie so easily to him? Ed glanced at the clock again.

"Only seven forty-five? Unbelievable!" He groaned, happy for any excuse to skip homework. Right now, he was rather bent on the "it got too late" path of travel. Edward frowned and got up, only to sit back on his bed. He stood up. He sat down. He stood up. He sat down. Up. Down. Up. Down. Up. Down.

"Ow," he finally groaned. He'd gotten up too quickly, which had **not** helped his headache. He made a decision then and there, and strolled confidently to his closed bedroom door, and threw it open, peering down the brightly lit hallway.

"AL?!" Ge called, so that the boy, wherever he was in the house, would here him.

"Yes, brother?" A more timid voice called back, from the general area of the den.

"I'm going to bed. Will you be alright for the rest of the night alone?!" He called back.

"Yes, brother. Sleep well!" Was the instantaneous, dutiful reply.

"Right. Well, you know where to find me." Ed called back before closing his door and returning to his mattress. Happily, he found sleep.

---

A/N: I loooove reviews, as previously stated. This may be a slow update ficcy, because I'm probably going to move to my dad's. And my daddy's computer is infamously incompetent. Review, please!

-TVG


	4. Disturbed souls

A/N: I have been so busy that it isn't even funny. That is my excuse. Don't be belligerent. I said I'm sorry. Oh. Wait, you weren't really talking; it was just my guilty conscience. --;

* * *

Damaged People.

OR

**Each Occupation has its Hazards, and You Happen to Be Mine.

* * *

**

Chapter Three. Enjoy the Silence.

A month in to the school year, Roy found himself staring at a grade book in front of him on his desk with a certain amount of disdain. It was fourth period, and Roy had had, at least, the foresight enough to assign his class busy work while his mind focused on… grading. True, he wasn't even looking at the fourth period grade book; in fact, what was on his mind had very little to do with grading and a rather more to do with a quiet blonde boy that made perfect grades even though he never paid attention in class. Roy, admittedly, had found himself within the last few weeks completely intrigued by him and, like it or not, stunned by his brilliance.

"Perhaps this teaching gig was a good idea in concept alone," the obsidian-haired man mused. He sighed inwardly as a young woman sauntered to his desk him, looking confident. As amusing as it had been to hear the young women (and, in some cases, men) attempt to shift his attentions to them in the first few weeks, he regretted his fun immensely. With the realization that no originality sprouted in the minds of his students came the abrupt change in sentiment towards them. Now he they invoked nothing but a languid disappointment in him, well, all save one. Still, Roy feigned an arrogant smile as the young redhead dropped her notebook on his desk in front of him.

"Frannie," he greeted with superfluously imitated superciliousness. (It was a fine art he had crafted, leveling such confidence into just two syllables, but he was, by now, the master of smooth talking; it came to him as second nature.)

"Mr Mustang," Frances Donaldson, a girl with as much brain as a sea sponge and yet as much manipulation as Roy's own teenage self (or almost so much, anyway), replied with an impudent hauteur that some girls refer to as "popularity". "Number four," she pointed at the notebook unnecessarily, "is giving me some trouble."

In his head, a pair of amber eyes rolled in disgust.

"All right, let's go through this, step-by-step," Mustang said, trying not to choke at the unbidden recollection of young Elric's eternally dissatisfied gaze.

With a furtive glance to her awed peers, Frannie leaned in closer to Roy… to get a better look at the notebook. Right.

"It's pretty simply." Roy explained warily. "When x varies indirectly with y, they are on the opposite side of the constant of variation, k. So if x varies indirectly with y and directly with w, the problem will be set up…?" He left it open-ended, and stared at the teenager expectantly.

"Xyw is equal to k?" Frannie completed without hesitation. Roy fought the urge to massage his temples in frustration. In his head, Edward Elric snorted derisively.

"Now _think_, Frannie," His eyes searched hers, nearly pleadingly. "You aren't thinking."

"Well Maybe I would do better if you would actually teach us instead of doing whatever _that_ is," Frannie suggested bitingly, waving her hand at a piece of unlined paper where Roy had absent-mindedly scrawled "Elric". He wasn't obsessed. Just intrigued. Not obsessed. Just intrigued. Nevertheless, Roy snatched the incriminating paper and crumpled it before throwing it away.

"Don't try and sound audacious. I've explained this to you dozens of times." Edward would not have needed this lecture. Edward, the only student Roy had any real desire to communicate with, and the one who would never give him the excuse.

Roy pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to stem a headache and simultaneously drag himself away from his off-topic-at-hand conjectures.

"Xy is equal to kw. Now tell me why that is, Frannie." He gritted his teeth, watching the redhead bend over her paper, her low-cut blouse displaying far more cleavage than he cared to see in _any_ woman under twenty-one.

"Because…" She began, biting her lip. A group of boys in the back of the class snickered, and Frannie coloured prettily.

The bell rang.

"Study, Frannie," Roy insisted tiredly as she scampered away, notebook and book bag in grasp. She squeaked a reply before hastily rushing away. Roy turned his focus back to his grade book.

Roy Mustang stared, completely lost to the world.

"Mustang, you slacker!" Came a voice in the door by way of greeting. Roy did not need to look up to recognize the elocution of childhood friend Maes Hughes, so he didn't.

"Slacker nothing," Roy muttered without much conviction.

"Aw, what's wrong, Buddy?" Hughes teased. He gave only a quick glance to make sure there were no students perusing the hallways before he added in a sly undertone, "Sex life got ya down? All work and no play makes Roy a dull boy." Hughes, narrowly dodging a paper ball flew in his direction, mused aloud. He stooped in his navy suit, light blue dress shirt, and dark tie to pick up the crumpled thing and opened it up.

"Hey, this wouldn't happen to refer to that _Edward_ Elric kid, would it?" He asked, tossing it back to Roy. Roy cringed; the paper was another of his "Elric" scribbles.

"Oh, come on, Roy." Hughes sounded scandalized, staring intently at his friend. "I was joking. Tell me you aren't getting mixed up with a _student_. You could get fired!"

Roy laughed humorlessly. "That's all you care about? My impermanent teaching career? No 'he's a kid, that's completely immoral's?"

"Well, I say that as far as age goes, they're going to screw around anyway, may as well be with someone who knows well enough to use a condom. But seriously, Roy-,"

"I'm not dating a kid, Hughes," Roy cut him off. Maes opened his mouth to retort, but Roy beat him to it by adding, "Nor am I sleeping with one. I was just trying to place the name. I must admit, I didn't expect you to be quite so corrupt as you've just proven you are," Roy remarked mildly.

"Oh," Maes shrugged, satisfied. "You're undoubtedly thinking of Hoenheim Elric, the famous musician and composer. His work is getting rave reviews in the East, and his popularity is spreading here to Central."

That wasn't at all what Roy had been thinking, but the relation intrigued him none-the-less.

"Really? Are they family?"

"One of his only two sons, so I hear," Hughes shrugged. "Probably a hella rich, anyway. Maybe it's a shame you two _aren't_, you know," Maes said, wiggling eyebrows suggestively, in the process bouncing slim spectacles.

"Engaging in physical expression of lustful passion?" Roy deadpanned.

"That's it. Hey, you busy? I assume not, from the five minutes I watched you stare at that book without moving. Gracia and I were just saying the other night that you haven't been over in forever, and you should see Elysia! She's just so-,"

"I really can't. My Dad's nurse has a workshop to attend at the center and has to leave early," Roy lied. He did not feel like paying attention and making small talk and enduring, as much as he really adored his "niece" Elysia, another person under eighteen.

Well, maybe there was one person under eighteen he wouldn't mind talking to for awhile.

Growling, Roy stood up and gave a half-hearted goodbye to bewildered Hughes before hurrying out to his car. It wasn't late, in fact, school had just gotten out ten minutes ago. He would likely get caught up in the post-school congestion, but he suddenly needed to get out of that place at any cost.

Roy pulled out of the parking lot, thinking about what his life had dwindled down to. He had been the head of his class at Crimson Technical Institute in the astrophysics department. He was a rising star, no pun intended, and all the country's top astronomic researching facilities were groping out towards him to integrate him into their staff. Suddenly, tragedy had struck, and Roy's father, Darrel, had had a heart attack that left him handicapped and unable to live alone. Darrel was stubborn and refused lodgings at any community home, and did not want a stranger living with him full-time. Thus, Roy "volunteered" to return home after guilt-trips a-thousand and found a position at his home-town's old high school where, coincidentally, his best friend from high-school Maes had already started in the Driver's Education/Sports Coaching field. Still, Roy missed the glory of being a prodigious intellectual persona, and couldn't help but feel utterly dissatisfied with putting his dreams on hold.

"It's only until the old man loses to his weak cardiac unit." Roy mused. Some might have thought that the return home caused a rift between two normally close family members, and they would be completely wrong. There was absolutely no love lost between Roy and Darrel Mustang, simply because there was none to lose.

A kid in a convertible pulled out in front of him and he cursed loudly, nearly punching the horn on his steering wheel. He heard laughter from the sidewalk, and realized to his vague discomfiture that his windows were rolled down, and his expletives had been voluminous enough to attract a passerby's amusement.

This would have, seeing his mood, likely made Roy even more irritated, had it not been for the realization of who had just found pleasure in his pain. Roy glanced out the window. Perfect, it was about to rain. Roy pulled over to the sidewalk, and tawny eyes, suddenly without a trace of glee, surveyed the man stepping out of his car impassively.

"Elric," Roy greeted, trying to keep the enthusiasm out of his voice.

"Mr Mustang," Edward nodded coolly. Roy had no idea what was going through the teen's head, especially as he noticed Ed's cheeks begin to colour slightly.

"Are you headed somewhere? I could give you a ride," Roy blurted before he could change his mind about making the proposition. Edward looked nervously at the car, to Roy's bemusement.

"Er, I don't want to put you out of your way," Edward said awkwardly.

Thunder gave a distant, assisting rumble in the distance.

"It's no problem, Edward. Just get it," Roy urged, suddenly abandoning restriction.

"I- er," Edward said intelligently. Roy smirked.

"I don't intend on blemishing thy virgin ears anymore than I did a few moments ago, if that's what you're wondering," Mustang nearly growled, and Ed smiled in response, remembering undoubtedly, as Roy was, their confrontation in the hallway a few weeks prior.

"All right," Edward agreed with a nod, and as he walked towards the car Roy walked over to open the door. He didn't think until Edward was inside with the door shut and he was going back to the driver's side about how that could have been perceived as overly-chivalrous, but he let it go as Edward did not seem to be bothered by the sentiment. Clicking his safety belt, Roy pulled back out into traffic.

"Oh, where are you going, anyway?" Roy remembered.

"The middle school. To pick up my brother." Edward clarified without being asked. "We'll have to go home on foot from there, though, I guess. He's in a wheelchair and it probably wouldn't fit-,"

"Don't worry about that. My dad's fits in the trunk fine, and I'm experienced with helping people who can't really walk get in and out of those things." Roy said, glancing quickly at his passenger with a smile. Edward smiled in return.

"Oh, well. Cool, thanks."

"No problem. So how's school going for you so far, Edward?" Roy asked, smiling ia friendly way.

"It's the same as usual," He shrugged. "Boring. Unnecessary. I only stay in because of my Mom, because it isn't like any of this is going half so fast as I need it to anyway," Edward began, and then stopped abruptly. "Not that I'm saying I'm too smart for high school, or anything, because I'm sure I still need to learn stuff and the techers are fine and everything," he added quickly.

"No, you are right. You're interests aren't being served here. You belong at better places. You just feel obligated to your parents to stay, despite it infringing on _your_ goals and dreams," Roy agreed, and then stopped because he realized he wasn't talking about Edward anymore. He summarized: "You have a gift. You don't need to hide that for modesty's sake, Edward."

"You can call me 'Ed', if you prefer. It's what my fr-," Ed said and stopped, reconsidering the insinuation that he and his teacher were friends, "It's what most people call me."

"Right. Ed." Roy nodded, making a mental note. He gulped, realizing that the turnoff to the middle school was only a few blocks away, and then his time alone with Edward would be over, for who knew how long. Roy had to say something to prevent that. An idea occurred to him.

"Listen, Ed." He said quickly, before he could over-consider. "I was going to Crimson when I got this job. I was a few months from an advanced degree in astrophysics, but I had to drop out for the rest of the semester and this one because my father is having health problems."

"I'm sorry," Ed apologized, looking bewildered by the sudden confession, but impressed.

"No, I mean, astrophysics. So I have a pretty deep math background. And, as you are currently owning this subject without trying even a little," Ed had the decency to look abashed, "I think it would be a good idea if you came after school some time, and we could go into some deeper stuff, and I could look into getting you math credits for other courses. If you want to, that is." Roy said in a rush. He was oddly flustered, oddly because discomposure was _never_ something that could be connected with Roy Mustang. Until the last few weeks, that is.

"I would like that," Ed agreed hastily. They were pulling into a parking space. Ed looked over at Roy, looking earnest but at the same time awkward. A sudden urge to kiss those tentatively smiling lips consumed Roy, and he struggled to hold himself back, instead forcing up a crooked smile. Roy noticed with a jolt that this made a pretty flush come to Ed's face, and was suddenly smiling genially.

"I, er, guess I'll go get Al. Be right back," Edward squeaked, amusing Roy thoroughly. His joviality was erased the instant Ed's presence was removed, however. That was it. The moment was over. Roy's eyes widened as it hit him how _close_ he had just come to flirting with a _minor_. At least, he assumed Ed was still fifteen. A voice in his head chirped that a year (sixteen being the age of consent in Amestris) wasn't that much of a wait, but he hushed it violently. Really, what had Maes told him? It was stupid, what he was getting himself into…

The minutes ticked by. Roy berated himself as such for that length of time, before finally realizing that it had been a while since Ed (funny how naturally the nickname came to him in his thoughts, now) had abandoned the car in search of his brother. Roy debated only a moment before leaving his car to try and find the Elric brothers. He went to the school's front entrance, which was locked. The side, he soon found out, was also. He went around to the back of the school, a place he hadn't been in years, and came to the lunch courtyard. There stood the Elric brothers opposite a young raven-haired boy.

"I don't have," a blonde boy in a wheelchair that could only be Ed's younger brother growled, "five hundred dollars at my expense."

"What a shame. Guess I'll just go tell my Aunt Clara, the _social worker_, how two young, destitute boys are living alone without parental supervision," the other boy sneered. Roy moved behind a tree, eyes widening. Ed was alone…?

"Joel," that was Edward, Roy realized from the voice. He listened carefully. "Stop this. We haven't done anything to you."

Roy, who had not known this boy longer than a month, felt his heart ache for the boy's older, weary-sounding voice. Like he'd grown up too fast. Like he was forced to deal with too much. And, Roy supposed, if he truly was the only parent to his younger brother like the situation appeared, he _had_.

"How _dare_ you speak to me," Joel reviled. "You fucking queer," he added eloquently.

Roy's mind spun. So then, Ed was-?

"Goddamn homophobe," the younger brother replied, surprising Roy, and from the twin gasps he heard, Ed and this Joel kid, also.

"My sexual preferences," Ed said, sounding suddenly murderous, "concern _neither_ of you."

"The hell it doesn't!" They replied in unison.

Roy took a staggering breath, feeling a bit of elation at this new information with all the dread he held. He felt very out-of-character suddenly; since when did Roy Mustang hide behind trees and get crushes on fifteen-year-old boys? He moved out into the open and walked up to the group, looking casual.

"Hey, Ed. You were taking a bit, so I thought I would come find you. This your brother?" Roy asked, nodding at the younger. Edward turned humiliated eyes on Roy, and answered quietly,

"Yessir. Mr Mustang, Alphonse. Alphonse, this is my Algebra teacher. He was going to give us a ride home."

"Except," Joel interrupted, in a cruel sing-song voice, "I don't think it would be a very good idea to let them go home. You see, mister," Joel said, appealing to Roy, who wanted to smack Joel upside the punk little head, "Edward and Alphonse here… they're all alone," he said, trying to sound innocent and concerned. Edward gasped, and withheld barely concealed rage, while Al looked merely solemn and resigned. Roy made a quick decision, and hoped that it was the best one, and not just him wanting the Elric brothers to favor him.

"…And?" He asked, raising an eyebrow at the young boy. Joel looked taken aback, and then tried again.

"Sir, I don't think you understand," Joel reasoned, "When I say alone, I mean they don't have any parents. At all."

"I don't see," Roy said evenly, "how that is any of my concern, if they aren't disturbed by it themselves."

Joel seemed to grasp that he would not sway this one.

"Fine," he snarled, "You have one grown-up on your side. But you just wait. Wait until I tell my father."

"If I don't care, what makes you think your father will?" Roy said, thinking quickly to try and discourage the boy. The reply came from an unexpected source.

"He has to," Alphonse Elric said miserably. "His father's my principal. This is Joel Gutierrez, Alfred Gutierrez's son."

"Wait, Gutierrez," Roy asked, recalling something suddenly. Not only would his scheme get the Elrics out of this spot of trouble, he was now just genuinely curious. He got his wallet from his back pocket and amidst hundreds of scraps of papers with phone numbers (over half of which he hadn't even asked for), Roy Mustang pulled out a simple business card. "Like the Gutierrez on this card?" He asked, showing it to Joel. Joel looked smug.

"That's his card," he replied.

"That's interesting. That's very interesting," Roy said, sounding genuinely engrossed. "Do you know where I got this from, Joel?"

Edward had watched this exchange, silent, impassive, but now he looked curious. What did Mustang have up his sleeve…?

"From the other principal, right? King? From the other school?" Joel guessed with a shrug.

"No," Roy shook his head. "No, not at all. Actually, I got this a few weeks ago… at a bar."

Joel's face twitched, but he remained otherwise emotionless.

"So…?" Edward asked, surprising himself apparently, for he blinked a few times and clamped his mouth shut.

"So," Roy explained, "I had not been talking to his father at all. He just came over to me and pressed this into my hand."

Edward looked confused, and Joel suddenly livid, but unsurprised. Roy guessed that he had witnessed enough of this (or, at least glimpsed by accident the aftermath) to know exactly what Roy was referring to.

"He was trying," Roy clarified, "to pick me up."

Ed looked at Joel in bewilderment, and Al burst out laughing.

"Are you _serious_?" Al asked, sounding for all the world like only he understood the full preposterousness of this anecdote. An evil smugness fell upon his face.

"You know, Joel." He said pleasantly. "I bet my new _foster parents_ will love to hear about this when you give me away, as will all our friends."

"D-don't be hypocritical," Joel spluttered. "So what if my dad's gay? Doesn't make me gay, and it doesn't mean you can hate him for it and not your brother."

"It isn't so much that he's homosexual, as that he's _desperate_," Roy explained calmly to riotous commotion from Alphonse. Ed, though, he noticed, did not looked half so jovial as his younger brother.

"You- you." Joel spluttered.

"C'mon, guys. It's going to rain. I'll take you home," Roy said happily, feeling good about himself.

"Okay!" Al chirped, racing ahead. Joel ran off like a child possessed. Roy and Ed were left in the courtyard.

"You," Ed breathed. Roy spun to face him, alarmed. That was not a tone of felicity being elicited form the younger man's mouth.

"Er. Me." Roy agreed lamely.

"You had to step in, we had everything covered!" Ed roared suddenly.

"Woah, Ed," Roy said, taken aback. "I was just helping."

"Next time," Edward growled, "consider _asking_ if I need your fucking help first!"

"Hey," Roy countered, now sounding a little angry. "If it wasn't for me, that little piece of-,"

"Save it." Edward snarled. He strode off after Al, and when Roy got over his shock enough to follow him to the parking lot neither were in sight. It was Friday, so Roy would not see Edward until the following Monday.

And there was nothing he could do until then but hope that Edward calmed down and didn't try to assassinate him come next week.

---

A/N: Trust me, there is logic behind Edward's anger, but you'll have to wait to find out what that is! Also, I loved the ending line. Irony, because of the fact that in the first chapter (I didn't go into detail about what happened to Roy, but it will be revealed in time) he _was_ assassinated, but Edward was the one who saved him, in a way, by recreating everything. I didn't intend it to be this fluffy! I am happy! This story has a life of its on sometimes. Oh. I hope you're as happy to have Maes back as I am. And yes, the Hoenheim thing will be better-explained later.

Keep reading, and PLEASE, PLEASE REVIEW!

I love you! You're the best! ;)

-TVG


	5. Playing out forever these games that

A/N: If you've been reading but not reviewing, please take a moment to tell me what you think later. I really appreciate feedback! I hope you enjoyed the Al's Troubles arc; it amused me to write. From now on, arcs will probably span over three chapters with a bridge in between each. I had a ton of stuff planned for this plot line, but in the break I took from writing I've forgotten a good bit of it, so I'll have to squish some ideas for other chapters together and make something resembling a few chapters, lol. Well, enough introduction; have chapter. &SHEHADWITCHCRAFT. Sorry. Wolfmother moment.

Damaged People.

OR

**Each Occupation has its Hazards, and You Happen to Be Mine.**

Chapter Four. A Graveyard Shift.

Roy slammed the door to his car and surveyed the death trap before him with considerable malice. For an instant, he wished he could set the place aflame, and nearly gave a cackle at the idea of watching the prison incinerate. His hand involuntarily lifted in anticipation, and his third finger and thumb began to press lightly together.

He stopped, looking curiously down at his hand, realizing that this time, he must've really cracked. Honestly, was he just trying to _snap_ the place on fire?

The imagination he could have sometimes.

Picking up his briefcase from the ground, Roy began, sweating slightly, towards the school. If one looked closely enough, they would have noticed that his normally regally pale skin was now utterly wan, and dark eyes were, rather than liquid and sensuous-looking like puddles of tar, now were hard and solid-looking like pavement. Roy Mustang was evidently not enthusiastic about the imminent class day.

Roy had forced himself, after a restless night, to get ready early and drive to the school before he could think enough to change his mind about going. School started at 8:25, and it was then around six-thirty, so Roy was only mildly surprised to enter a mostly unlit and eerily tranquil Amestris High. The main hallways' middle row of fluorescent ceiling lights illuminated his path to room 207, where he once again set his briefcase down in front of the door, and tried to ignore the feeling that someone was watching him.

Friday, Roy had returned home in a distinctly desolate mood that even his father and the young nurse had not been able to ignore. Roy had made a brief, pointed inquiry as to the passing of the day, tomorrow's agenda, and whether or not Peter (the nurse) would like to stay for dinner before retreating to his old room, feeling just like a teenager again.

When Roy had moved back in with his father, he had been mildly affronted to find that his room, which his mother had guaranteed would always remain prepared for his return should he find it needed, had been cluttered with things Roy's father had no immediate usage of, nor the willpower to throw away; most notably, the entirety of Roy's mother's wardrobe. Since, Roy had managed to relocate the vast majority of the excess materials into his walk-in closet (which would, consequently, now hold precious little of his own belongings) and modernize the decade-gone Mustang's living quarters into a respectable, neutral, and admittedly bland abode. On his nightstand there even stood a small potted plant, half-dead, but there all the same. It had been nearly impossible in the first few weeks to find rest in the eerie familiarity and, at the same time, foreignness of his room, but Roy had eventually settled in and gotten used to his bleak surroundings.

How he deplored growing up.

Now he wondered if he'd ever have a mature thought again, and if sleep would ever once more overtake him. The weekend had passed in a dim haze, most of it spent in his room, as Roy contemplated what exactly he had done to make his latest obse- his latest _intrigue_ storm at him as though he'd thrown mud in his face. Try as he might, Roy could not begin to fathom the reasoning behind the teen's rage.

"Hormones," Roy chortled weakly as he tried yet another key in his room's lock. Which one was it, again? He could've sworn the big one with the G went to the school's media center, but…

"Having trouble?" A voice asked from behind Roy, making him jump visibly. "Sorry," it continued. Roy turned around and looked down upon the smaller form of Riza Hawkeye, the Chemistry teacher from across and down the hall a bit that he recognized only by sight.

"Hullo," he said miserably, wishing for the life of him that he was the only person in the goddamn world.

"Hello, yourself. Here, let me try," Riza, more demanding than offering, moved Roy out of the way and proceeded to use a complicated kicking/key-twisting maneuver that only years of teaching down the hall from the room could have schooled. The door popped open a few inches, vibrating as though it was a tuning fork that had been tapped. Roy stared at her incredulously.

"How did you know to do that?"

"I've worked here for four years," she explained tautly, and Roy wondered if she ever truly relaxed.

"Oh, well. Thanks," he said awkwardly. Riza nodded.

"I haven't had a chance to speak to you before. You're Roy Mustang, right?" She asked. "Hughes has mentioned you a few times."

"I'll bet he has," Roy muttered darkly, recalling his friend's tendency to try and find Roy a lover everywhere he was let loose.

"I'm Hawkeye. Riza," She nodded, offering her hand. Roy took it and gave her a dazzling smile that hid the majority of him that would, at that moment, have preferred hitting his head against the wall.

"Yes, I know. You spoke at the teacher orientation," He added.

"Were you there? I don't recall seeing you," She said, contemplatively. Abruptly, she changed the subject. "You're an alumnus of Crimson, aren't you?"

Roy stiffened, not wanting, of all things, to rehash his past for this woman he barely knew. '_Just ask me out so I can go ahead and turn you down_,' he groaned inwardly.

"Yeah, astrophysics field." And then he felt compelled to add, "I didn't finish, though."

"So I've heard," she said, seeming to be talking to herself more than anyone him. "So you're pretty acquainted with science if you got accepted into Crimson. Not just astrophysics?"

"My forte is in astronomy," he answered dubiously, not expecting this particular turn in conversation, "But yes, I have a bit of knowledge in other areas, also."

"A bit?" Riza looked at him, almost sternly, to his advanced puzzlement.

"An extensive amount," he admitted. "More than most, anyway."

Riza looked triumphant.

"Excellent. If you're wondering as to the meaning of the inquiry, I happen to run the Science Team,"

"Does that make you God?" Roy interrupted, cracking a joke despite himself.

"It's a trivia team, we don't actually maintain nature in itself," Riza continued, either not knowing he was joking or not caring. "And we could really use someone like you."

"I know I have boyish good looks and all, but you don't think I'm a bit old to be playing games with the teenagers?" Roy asked, smirking. Riza rolled her eyes.

"The job would not entail competing, but tutoring newcomers, and drilling the team on Wednesdays and Thursdays. After school." She added. Ah, so there was a catch.

"Only Wednesdays and Thursdays after school?" He asked, frowning.

"Most of the season is played during the summer, but we've advanced into the finals this year, and our last game will be later this month. Back in the more densely arranged game season, we have anywhere from four to six practices a week."

"Oh," Roy said. He considered. He _had_ promised Ed that he would tutor him after school, but it now seemed unlikely that Edward would ever speak to him again, let alone show up for class today. He mulled it over quickly. "Well, okay, I can sit in on a few meetings."

"Wonderful," Hawkeye said with more of business finality than an expression of satisfaction. Roy blinked at her. She gave him a confident look that had nothing to do with the confidence he usually wore around the opposite sex, and all the more to do with a self-assurance in herself and her establishment of a little Science Team. "Thanks, it'll give us the real advantage we need to see a fresh face in our midst."

Roy found he could not bear those neutral, unassuming, honest, and completely earnest brown eyes a moment longer. They reminded him of everything, even at his best, he could never be. So, he fled. "Left something out in my car," he grunted abruptly, leaving his brief case and his now-open door, along with a vaguely mystified Hawkeye to find himself standing outside once more in the cool, misty morning air. To his unconscious satisfaction, it was late enough in the autumn so that still it was dark outside at this time of morning. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his business attire and headed, purely on instinct, behind the school rather than to his car.

Roy tried not to think as his feet ascended a steep hill with frost-covered crabgrass and the occasional tiny wildflower. However, he couldn't help replaying last Friday over in his head.

"_It's the same as usual: boring; unnecessary. I only stay in because of my Mom,"_ Edward had mentioned about school. But, that little jerk Joel had contradicted that a mere few minutes later.

"_Edward and Alphonse here… they're all alone," _

Roy frowned. So which was it? Roy supposed Edward could've been lying, but then, it didn't seem like it. Edward had seemed completely at ease, especially considering that immediately following that remark he began recalling his words to make himself appear less haughty. So if he was relaxed to make the mistake of initially letting it slip how much he deplored school, was it merely sheer habit that compelled him to choke out a quick, unnecessary lie about his mother?

And what about the situation, anyway? Looking back on it, Roy was beginning to wonder if he'd done the right thing. Edward was a smart boy, most definitely, but that did not necessarily imply that he was a wholly accountable boy. He himself, Roy had to admit, despite being uncommonly clever, was not the most responsible figure. Roy was too quick-tempered, didn't have enough regard as to the decorum that teachers were generally required to employ, and he couldn't help but flirt with any give woman, and, at times, an attractive young male. With a handicapped younger brother, was it really the best choice to endanger his career and possibly their futures by allowing Alphonse and Edward to live alone?

And besides that, why _were_ they living alone?

"_You're undoubtedly thinking of Hoenheim Elric, the famous musician and composer. He's one of his only two sons, so I hear." _

Hughes had attested to their having at least one living parent… Why were Edward and Alphonse here in Amestris City, the country's capital and highest crime-rate in all of the Central District, while Elric senior gallivanted through the East, living in assumable lap of luxury and fame?

Roy paused in his whirlwind of thoughts to consider his new surroundings. The mist hung low on the cold, grey morning, and electric lamps still illuminated the courtyard. He was in one of the most familiar places to him in he world, and at the same time one of the places he'd least looked forward to returning to. Roy Mustang gave a humorless laugh as he contemplated his mother's tombstone.

The inscription was, after five years' time, still looking as though it had been chiseled yesterday.

_Azalea Hillary Mustang (Harris)  
12 June 1937-15 Nov 2000._

He did not read the rest of it; the cool expression his father had chosen, "Wife, mother, friend. You shall be sorely missed," in lieu of Roy's more heartfelt "We will meet again; the day cannot come soon enough."

But then, Roy mused, perhaps the sentiment had been a morbid one, after all.

Roy could not confess to being at all surprised to having turned up here without intention of doing so. His last year of high school, the first year he had had to learn to live without Azalea, he had often visited the cemetery. He was, admittedly, a little more surprised to learn that he was not alone.

"Hey," a casual voice drifted to him from the gloom. Roy spun around to face the approaching figure of one particularly blonde teenage boy.

"Edward?" Roy stared, flabbergasted.

"That's me," Edward shrugged, lifting a lazy hand in greeting. Roy struggled to find the words that would accurately hide his astonishment, and most of his relief.

"You- what are you doing here?" Roy settled on. Edward stopped a few feet away from him, just out of Roy's grasp, he couldn't help but notice, and folded his arms while looking away, a little uncomfortably.

"I was… visiting someone." He said finally. Roy nodded. Of course. It looked as though he wasn't the only member of the party who had a mother buried here. "I saw you, and, well. I've wanted to tell you all weekend, and I just, I'm sorry if I'm interrupting or anything,"

"You aren't interrupting anything." Roy shook his head at Edward. Edward stopped rambling and gave a small smile.

"Right. I guess I just wanted to apologize. For being such a head case Friday, I mean."

"Um, okay." Roy said, dissatisfied, but not feeling it was his place to pry. Edward sighed, and turned around. Somehow, Roy knew that this was not dismissal, but an invitation to stroll with him. He took it eagerly; curiously. Edward purposefully found a paved path through the cemetery, and Roy got the feeling that he wasn't the only one who'd spent a lot of time in this dismal place, either. They were both quiet for a while, and fell into a slow pace around the path, drawing near an old pond with a fountain built into it. In the summer the pond was swarming with ducks, mosquitoes, toads, and other fauna; today it was as lifeless as the rest of the place.

"My mom died when I was ten. At the time she had been raising my brother and myself as a single mother. My father," he explained without request, "…didn't turn out to be much of a parenting type." Roy nodded his sympathy, and Edward continued without looking at him. "It was a car accident. There was a lot of press about it, actually, because the man who ran into her was an escaped convict, called "Barry" or something. Anyway, it was me, my brother, and my mom in the car. I can't remember where we had been going or coming from anymore, I think I put a mental block against the memory most of that day. Anyway, Mom was in the driver's seat, and Al in the seat behind her, and that was the side that Barry's car slammed into. I was the only one who escaped fairly unscathed.

"I remember the hospital. I was ten, and alone in the waiting room without anyone else. Our family friends Winry and Pinako would show up hours later, but by then it would be too late. My mother didn't last in the ICU more than six hours. I was sure I was going to lose Alphonse too, but I guess him being a kid and all, they worked very hard, and he came out without any brain damage, but they told me he'd never walk again. So far, they've been right.

"There's something about that night that I've never told anyone. Not Pinako, not Winry, and certainly not Alphonse." Edward paused in his lecture here, obviously reluctant to continue. Roy opened his mouth to insist that he didn't have to say anything; that he understood, but Edward spoke again, hushing Roy.

"That car… That car hit right outside of where Alphonse was sitting. He would've been the one to die, had it not been from my mom. She pulled the lever that reclined her seat all the way in a split second, and shielded him from a lot of the impact. However, this position basically left all her most vulnerable points open for attack, and without even her arms to defend her (one was still on the steering wheel and the other on the reclining lever) my mother's body was crushed," Edward stooped and picked a wildflower, and Roy winced as Edward effortlessly crumpled that flower in emphasis of his point, "beyond repair.

"So, what I'm saying is this. My mother _died_ for that kid. No one will ever, no man, woman, legal guardian, eighteen or ninety will ever understand that so fully as I. My mother… My mother was the epitome of joy and cheerfulness and warmth and _home_… She was the light of this world. A lot of kids you hear about don't appreciate their parents until they're gone, but Al and I, well, she was always the only person we had. We always loved her more than anything. When she was gone, we were devastated, but I made an oath… I _swore_ to never let anything inhibit me from protecting Al, because that's what she did with her dying breath, defended him. Mom was everything to me. And because of that, Al is now everything. I've always loved my brother, but now I am _dedicated _to him." Edward stopped and stared at Roy squarely in the eye with an unwavering golden gaze that Roy couldn't avoid.

"Do you get it? I made that oath, and then that kid, Joel. He just came in and threatened to ruin everything. I don't know how he found out, but I hated him for it. And what was worse, he spilled the secret to you. I'm just so worried… I can't let anything come between me and Al, and I wasn't thinking so clearly, but in my mind, you knew about us, and therefore, you were the enemy. That's all there was to it. I don't know how Point A is at all equivalent to B, but for that rash moment in my head, when my world was turned upside-down, the one person who'd actually taken my side in this struggle was the one I detested more than anything. It wasn't fair. And I really don't know why I'm apologizing, since I'm just some punk kid in your Algebra class that you probably don't give a damn about anyway," Edward said in a rush, and then looked faintly embarrassed, "Sorry. I shouldn't curse in front of you, you being a teacher."

"We aren't in school," Roy countered, and was taken aback at how husky his voice came out. Edward smiled again, the same small, poignant expression that Roy was already becoming too appreciative of, and looked at the pond. Roy ached to sweep away one of the blonde strands of hair he'd noticed had come free of the braid that Edward kept his hair into most days, but he restrained himself.

"I am sorry," Edward said, as though Roy could've doubted the sincerity of the confession.

"I know. I forgive you," Roy said. Then, as an afterthought, he added, "But I'm going to have to retract my offer for the after-school tutoring lessons."

Edward looked startled. "Whatever for?"

Roy didn't feel like hashing out the whole truth, that he had remembered Edward but in an attempt to bury that empty space he knew would have been spent with the boy, he had replaced that allotted time with the first available opportunity. "I have things I've got to do," he said instead. "I mean, I know that you were looking forward to being alone with me and all, seeing as how you are completely fascinated by my obvious intellectual and behavioral comparative superiority…"

"Arrogant bastard," Edward interrupted without thinking, and Roy grinned at him.

Something about the moment gave them both a very distinct, yet inexplicable sensation of déjà vu, in the most comfortable way imaginable.

---

"And furthermore, lateness to class does not constitute a firm foundation on which to build one's life. The Armstrong Lineage has been abhorrent of tardiness for centuries, and it is my familial obligation to not dishonour this code by allowing such behaviour in my pupils,"

"If you don't want me to be late," Edward interrupted his homeroom teacher impatiently, "You'd better let me get to first period. The late bell is about to ring."

"Mister Elric, I suggest you better contemplate the severity of your actions, but, at present, I will not delay your education,"

"Thank you, Mr. Armstrong. Your ancestors would be proud," Edward almost spat sarcastically before hurrying away. He did not notice Armstrong consequently beaming with pride at the "compliment" he'd just been paid. Running like a boy pursued, Edward opened his locker with a crash. And contemplated the mess inside. Books, books, what did he need for first period, what _was_ his first period again, oh right, books, had he done homework, no, of course not…

"Hey, Edward. Shame about you getting, y'know, Armstronged." A voice timidly greeted. Out of his peripheral vision, Edward spied Kain Fuery leaning tentatively against a locker around four feet away. He looked exceedingly awkward, and Edward found he didn't have the patience for this.

"'Armstronged'?" Edward repeated, still staring at the atrocious hurricane-aftermath that was his locker's entrails.

"Yeah, that's what we've dubbed getting the brunt of one of those tedious lectures," Fuery said, laughing nervously.

'Tedious', 'brunt', 'dubbed', and 'lectures', Edward mused, were not terminologies he had expected _any_ of Havoc's friends to utilize in casual conversation.

"Oh. I suppose that makes sense," he replied, trying not to feel, or at least sound, as edgy as he felt. It wasn't so much that he cared about being late, as the desire to see Roy Mustang in class again. He was incredibly curious as to how their association would be carried on in the classroom environment, and could only hope Roy would set their public precedent and he could easily follow. For Edward knew, and suspected that Roy did, also, that their relationship had evolved that morning from a mere student-teacher affiliation to a cautious friendship. Though nothing more had happened between them than a few borderline-flirtatious jibes, Edward was certain that Roy was interested in him. Not like _that_, per se, but interested in getting to know him as not a scholar, but a mature acquaintance.

"It's not like it was such a big deal anyway," Fuery continued, slightly encouraged, interrupting Edward's internal soliloquy. "You had a note."

"From Mr Mustang," Edward nodded, agreeing with the point.

"Right. Mustang. I have him. For Algebra, third period. He's pretty lackadaisical in instruction sometimes, but he means well, I think. He always explains what I don't understand right away. He just seems to take it for granted that we'll be able to get this pretty easily,"

"He's egotistical and narcissistic," Edward disagreed bluntly, smirking a little. That was for canceling those lessons he promised. "Wickedly smart, though. I'll give him that."

"Yeah. Well, he isn't the only one." Fuery pointed out, and Edward blinked. He did not like it when people referred to his above-average (to say in the least) intelligence, and hadn't expected that turn in conversation. He frowned, no longer able to veil his annoyance.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you," Fuery squeaked, holding up his ands, fingers splayed parallel his shoulders, looking immediately nervous once more and repentant.

"'S'okay." Edward muttered, "Listen, I gotta get to class,"

"Right! Right, class, me too! Oh, but hey, there was something I wanted to ask you about," Fuery admitted in a rush. There was a pregnant pause as Edward stared expectantly. When Fuery realized that that was all the response he would collect from the younger teen, he spluttered, "Would you like to come to a Science Team meeting this Wednesday?"

"'Science Team'?" Edward repeated dubiously. "We _have_ one of those?"

"It's mostly a summer thing," Fuery explained. "But most of our members are graduating this spring, so we're having a recruiting spree these last few weeks since we're still in the playoffs and we can train some extra members for next year before the season is over. If I recruit someone, I'm a candidate for team captain next season."

"Oh. What kind of thing does a 'Science Team' entail?" Edward uttered the words as if they were a theoretical invention that a child had presented to a board of serious company officials for production consideration. That is to say, without much credulity.

"It's, like, basically a quizzing competition, and you buzz in with the right answer before the other team. Like, "a cell is discovered, being eukaryotic, having a cell wall, but no chloroplasts. What Kingdom does this cell belong in?'"

"Fungi," Edward said without thinking. Fuery grinned.

"Precisely," he agreed. "You'd be great at it."

"Well," Edward considered. He was always free after school, after all, and it would probably be another impressive addition to his college application. "Okay. I don't see what trying out a few of these meetings could possibly hurt."

"Great!" Fuery positively beamed. Glancing at his wristwatch, he made a very sober, panicked face before smiling at Edward again. "Gotta go. Class,"

"Right. See you."

"Bye!"

Both boys took off like they were being followed by hoards of demons, and Edward just made it to his class before the bell rang.

"Edward." Roy greeted, amused black eyes boring into his excited (…from the running, of course…) amber ones. "If you think you can simply not grace us with your presence whenever you so choose, you will _shortly_ gain understanding of the contrary."

---

A/N: I realized that I had gone four chapters without more than a single height insult, and felt suddenly very insecure. I made up for it, though. And now the first arc has been terminated, and a kyute couple of chapters is on the way. This chapter wasn't fluffy so much as melodramatic, but at least things between Roy and Edward are good again. This chapter may seem a bit pointless, but the fact is that the explanation of the accident in full, the set-up of the Science Team meetings, and even the last line are a tremendous arrangement for the next mini-plotline, and therefore are not unimportant in the least. It took me a while to post this because my power has been out for daaays. Actually, as I'm typing this, my internet is _still_ down, but as you're reading this, it will (obviously) have been reconnected. Thanks for reading, please review! I've been working _extremely_ hard to make each chapter at the very least longer than the previous before it, and, just as a fun fact, each chapter has an even-hundred number of words. For instance, I think the last one was 3,900, and this one is about 4,700. I was also trying to make the intervals at which the chapter length increases increase each time, but I want to give myself _some_ flexibility. Uhm. What else? Oh. First eight reviewers will get a guest appearance in the next chapter if they leave their first name and a _short_ (eye colour, skin colour, hair colour, glasses/no, clothing) description of him or herself, and possibly small roles thereafter. I know, it's a cheap ploy to get reviews, but I need character names anyway. There will quite possibly be more opportunities to get your name publicized to the FMA community through this fic, so if you don't make it, don't get your hopes down! I love you all! Leave cookies in you's comments (Sugar, plzkthnx!). And I can't say it enough: please review!

-TVG (or TVMA, for those of you watching at home with children in the vicinity. ;D)


	6. We once thought we would be scared of

A/N: My goal for this chapter is 5,000 words. I know, this is getting a little excessive. I push myself too hard sometimes. 18 June 2007 was my last day of my sophomore year of high school. I'll add onto my author's note to say happy Fourth of New Saint Easter's Hallow Giving Eve, which is my condensed holiday assurance of well-wishes.

Damaged People.

OR

**Each Occupation has its Hazards, and You Happen to Be Mine.**

Chapter Five. Are You In or Are You Out?

Roy closed the door behind him to his classroom and leaned upon it, sighing heavily, at eight twenty-three.

'Amazing,' he thought. 'Under two hours ago, I was convinced Edward Elric hated me.'

Roy straightened up and adjusted his tie as the bell tolled and reopened his door. Promptly, students flooded in. He'd seen them in the hallway a moment before, of course, but shut the door in their faces, desperately needing a moment. His homeroom mulled through the door; a motley bunch of freshman whose surnames ranged from Su to Ru in the alphabetic spectrum. A few shot him slightly harassed looks, but then, he could hardly expect abounding cordiality when he'd slammed not two seconds ago the entrance to their dreaded destination that they had had to gather their wits about them to confront. In fact, even those who came rather later than others looked doleful. Roy was incredulous. Couldn't they _tell_ that today was the best day since they'd been born?

Among the cheerlessness, one voice alone rang out clear as if it were the last day of school instead of a Manic Monday.

"'Morning, Mr M.!" Winry Rockbell announced with enthusiasm as she strode into the room.

"Winry," he replied faintly, his mind still with Edward.

"Saw ya hangin' out in the cemetery with Edo-kun. Meet Mrs. Elric yet?" Winry grinned, faltering slightly at the mention of her friend's mother. Shaking her head quickly Winry fixed Roy with a stare than made him at once feel guilty and rebellious. Firstly, Winry obviously was intimate with the Elric family. Secondly, she suspected some sort of hyperbolized relationship between the boy and himself. Thirdly, what she had just said had sparked a small whisper, and Roy was once again, after four years of absence, the hottest topic of gossip amongst high school girls.

"Whoops," Winry said, also noticing the effect. "Guess I shouldn't have said that so loudly."

"Not to mention," Roy hissed in reply under his breath, "you've just risked exposure to the Elric secret by associating their mother and a graveyard."

Winry gave a small gasp, her eyes widening.

"Edward _told_ you?" She asked, somewhere between awed and horrified.

"I more… found out." He muttered. Though the other students couldn't hear them while their voices were lowered as such, Roy felt their eyes. He hastily added, "We can't talk about this right now,"

Winry's eyes slowly narrowed in contemplation. "No," she agreed reluctantly. "I guess we can't."

But damn if she wasn't going to interrogate and possibly torture Edward Elric for details later.

---

However, as we remember from the previous chapter, Winry would not intercept Edward between homeroom and first period today, as he was running a little late because he was being detained by a particularly brawny man whose size only rivaled that of the exaggeration of his family's prestige. Winry, however, was not the only person to notice Edward's absence in the beginning of class. Roy blinked with apprehension as the late bell rang and his young… friend did not materialize.

"Turn in your books to chapter ten; we'll be beginning a new unit today," Roy unwillingly instructed. He hated to start class before Edward got here, but…

Roy felt rather than witnessed Ed's presence as the boy all-but crashed into the room. He turned from the dry-erase board on which he had already begun to answer a problem from the homework and looked at the panting blonde who, for the second time that year, had rudely interrupted his class.

For a moment, he was speechless.

Edward really was, Roy couldn't help but think, an attractive boy. His stunning hair, which even in its unkempt disarray rivaled the beauty of any girl's in the school, was even more loose from the braid than it had been this morning in a terribly careless display that was, at the same time, endearing. He was lean and strapping at once, and Roy suspected there was definition to those muscles that couldn't be perceived without the removal of one of those black band tees and/or red hoodies that so often adorned the youth. Roy was also unsuccessful in withholding the reflection that perhaps, that particular pastime would not be an ill-advised one. Students stared curiously, and Roy realized he had taken a moment too long contemplating his pupil. Edward, gasping for breath and glancing warily at the clock, however, did not seem to notice Roy until his voice demanded the attention that Roy craved.

"Edward." Roy greeted, taking in bright amber eyes with his own delighted (…with the opportunity to make himself look witty again, of course…) midnight orbs. "If you think you can simply not grace us with your presence whenever you so choose, you will _shortly_ gain understanding of the contrary."

"Who are you," Edward stipulated between pants, "calling so short that he should get to class on time because if he doesn't get marked present during roll call he could accidentally get confused for one of the variables on the problems on one of the worksheets?!"

Roy blinked at this response. He had guessed from mixture of rumour and testing the joke slyly a few times himself that Edward Elric was height sensitive. He hadn't really been aware that Edward Elric was height _demented_. A grin broke slowly across his face. This concept had such unlimited potential…

Roy found he couldn't help himself.

"Kindly turn in your homework and find your seat, Mr Elric." Roy said with a smirk, sounding bored. He knew the answer before it came.

"I didn't do the homework assignment." Edward said. Before, he had taken Roy's comment as lightly (after all, he hadn't _exploded_ at the man), but Roy gathered too late that the instant he perceived Roy was trying to poke fun at him in front of Ed's own peers, Edward began to become indignant. "I don't waste my time on this novice material."

Roy smiled, noticing how, once again, Edward had forgotten himself and dropped his pretense of humbleness. If Ed had been any other student, Roy would have considered this a just victory, but, as always, Roy had trouble staying in control around Edward.

"Oh, Edward," he sighed before thoroughly thinking the idea through, "you and your _short_ attention span."

Edward fumed and strode without request to his seat, glaring murderously at the binder he slammed on the desk in front of him. A few of the students laughed out loud, seeming to further enrage the boy. Roy worried his lip for a moment, wondering if he'd gone too far. He had, after all, basically opened the door for any other student to pick on Edward, and now there wouldn't be a damn thing Roy could do to defend him. Roy sighed, vowing to make it up to Edward later, somehow. At the moment, he had a class to teach.

"All right, that fills my immaturity quota for the day," Roy announced with a crooked grin, hoping to stem the flow of any anger he had coming towards him. He took a quick glance at Edward, who hadn't responded. Roy gulped.

'Amazing,' he thought. 'Under half an hour ago, I was convinced Edward Elric _didn't_ hate me.'

"Don't worry, Mr Mustang," a voice interrupted his thoughts. The long green-haired hermaphrodite known only to Roy as "Kris Envy" (you can't even guess if it's a girl or a boy from the _name_, Roy would often think with annoyance) wore an unsubtle smile. The class tensed, waiting for the punch line. "Edward just has a _short_ temper."

He had mimicked the way Roy had stressed the syllable with perfection, and Roy shuddered, knowing nothing good could come of it. This time, the group that laughed was joined by a few other voices. Envy apparently had quite a following.

"Okay, okay," Roy said, smiling weakly, "enough about Edward, now, page five-nineteen,"

"Yeah, don't pick on the short kid," another of the class members piped up, glancing at Envy for approval. The uproarious response that the slender kid gave was answer enough; the brash child sat back, pleased with himself.

"Page five-nineteen," Roy continued icily, becoming angry himself, "defines the meaning of a geometric series. Envy, you're boisterous enough, you could do with some dulling down. Read that for us, won't you?"

"Certainly. I mean, considering it's _short_ enough that even,"

"OUT!" Roy bellowed before Envy could finish the thought. Even Edward's head snapped up at the sudden volume. Roy growled. "Mr Envy, that will be quite enough. I asked you to come back to the lesson, but you persist. You are therefore being evicted. Report to the office immediately, or I will call security."

Envy blinked once, twice, and Roy had just enough time to recall that he had used a masculine honourific when addressing the gender-ambiguous specimen.

"…Okay." Envy finally said slowly, and all eyes were on his lithe form as he drew his books to him and left the room. All was silent. Roy continued the lesson. In his seat, Edward was very careful to keep a straight, dark look, lest he should let slip a small smile.

---

The bell rang. Edward took a little extra time getting his things together. Others also stalled, wanting to see the inevitable showdown between teacher and student, but he dawdled long enough to lose their interest. Edward approached the desk. Roy looked at him silently, expectantly.

"I'm angry with you," Ed informed. "Perturbed as hell. But,"

Here he raised a hand hesitantly, reaching for the older man's face, before pausing a moment too long and letting the hand drop back by his side. Roy frowned, wondering why the gesture had lost momentum, wondering where it came from a t all, if Edward was so annoyed with him.

"But?" Roy prompted silkily.

"I won't stay irritated." Edward finished hurriedly. He darted from the room, blushing crimson. Roy's own eyes followed his young friend's form.

Things just kept getting more… interesting.

---

"So, let me get this straight," Hughes interjected, much to his friend's annoyance. "When you said you weren't dating this Elric kid, you were…?"

"Telling the truth," Roy finished firmly. "I have no romantic attachments to this boy. We're… just friends."

Hughes shook his head, slowly.

"'Just friends' is still a hell of a lot more than you should be."

"You're missing the point." Roy grimaced. "I was out of line, and I probably set up a whole lot of torture in the future for that kid. Not only did Envy get in trouble more-or-less because of him, he's probably been branded one of those insufferable louses known as 'teacher's pets'." Roy frowned, despising himself for how much damage upon the blonde's reputation he'd inflicted. He wasn't exactly guilty he'd terrorized him, but the jibes were supposed to stop there; no one else could pick on his…

If Roy had been walking, he would have crashed into something at that moment.

Where the hell had that possessive pronoun…?

"I wouldn't worry about it, Roy. I don't know if you've noticed this," Hughes said, unaware of his friend's sudden discomposure, smirking because indeed he knew for a fact that Roy _had_ noticed, "but you're pretty popular around here. Being in with you probably won't register as a bad thing."

"Yeah, but Hughes," Roy continued, hopping off the other man's desk in the Driver's Ed Room during their lunchtime. Roy had been explaining the drama of first period to the one person he trusted enough not to rat him out to the school board. _Hell, forget the school board,_ Roy thought dryly, _I'm lucky if I don't get reported to the _press _at some point or other. _"The cool teacher clause hardly overrides the teacher's pet rule. This kid will be lucky not to face social massacre because of me."

Hughes would have pointed out that this point was not in the least necessarily true, and likely brought on by a superfluously guilty conscience, had Mustang not persevered in the conversation.

"All I'm asking is for you to look out for him today in your class. See if he's in over his head. See if he seems angry."

"See if he has feelings for you," Hughes translated. Roy shook his head mutely.

"No. No prying. I don't care what the hell he thinks of me," Roy lied, "I just want to know that I haven't destroyed his life. I really don't want that on my conscience."

"You _have_ one of those?" Hughes scoffed with a grin.

"Yes. Unlike you, I did not discard mine the second I left middle school," Roy retorted.

"Maybe you should've, eh? Then at least you could get what you want out of this Elric kid without-,"

"HUGHES. Do you have utterly no sense of propriety?" Roy exclaimed, frustrated. Maes blinked twice in surprise before breaking out into a toothy smile.

"You really need to work on your denial act. Getting so angry over this is just proving to me that you mean the opposite of what you say."

"Stop psychoanalyzing me, jerk." That was all Roy could come up with to rejoin. Hughes burst into raucous laughter, and was in tears when three minutes later the bell rung and, suddenly, Roy was nowhere in sight.

---

Edward had fallen asleep at lunch. A middle-aged robust woman had shaken him awake, her school identification card displaying an unfriendly expression and the name "MS. MEG" in his face. It had been alarming enough without the fact that she had promptly informed him he would be late to class if he didn't run. Why did he have such a problem getting to class on time? Blindly shoving his way through the meandering miscreants who rather didn't care for such asinine suggestions as _late bells_, Edward really didn't notice his Algebra teacher until a leisurely arm gripped viselike his own.

"Hey, Blondie." Roy crooned, putting on his most appealing smile. If this didn't make Edward forgive him…

"I have a class to get to," Edward squeaked. He frowned and looked confused a moment; he'd meant the phrase to be uttered as a snarl. Roy repressed a smile.

"As do I. I wanted to apologize, though, and ask if you were busy after school." He flashed an inviting grin. Edward stopped resisting and stared at his captor.

"Are _trying_ to be funny?" He ejaculated, exasperated as hell.

"To help me grade papers, for extra credit, since you haven't been doing your homework." Roy finished, grinning broader than ever. Edward growled and continued to pull way, in vain, from the hand that held securely his elbow.

"Thanks, but no." Edward said, relieved to find some resolution between his erratic heartbeat and clinching stomach. Roy exaggerated a sigh.

"Still angry with me?"

"Yes." Edward growled, not looking at him.

"Damn," Roy answered heavily, looking torn between real remorse and amusement. He let go of the younger boy finally. Edward glanced up at him, momentarily startled, but quickly resumed a contemptuous countenance.

"Like you care anyway." He muttered, and then wished he hadn't. Roy was then caught. Answer yes as would be truthful, or no as would be safe and closer to morally sound. He chose option C, make light of the comment.

"Ah Edward, you surely have realized by now that though I've known you a _short_ amount of time,"

"Arrogant-!" Edward spluttered, interrupting him.

"Bastard?" Roy finished, looking up and down the deserted hallway rather than meet the adolescent's eyes. "Yeah, that's a new one."

Edward almost felt guilty. Almost.

"Maybe you wouldn't get called that," Edward said, somewhere between exasperated and indignant, "if you showed an iota of respect."

Roy blinked at the younger. As much as he'd avoided admitting it, not just recently but throughout his life, maybe Edward had a point…

"Edward, I,-"

"I have a class." Edward growled darkly without meeting the other's eyes, offering no contest.

"Okay. I'll see you tomorrow, at latest." Roy gave in. Since when did Roy surrender? Before meeting Edward Elric, that would've been an unhesitant "never"…

"Bye."

---

As a junior, technically, Edward should have taken Driver's Education the year previously. However, having just attained the legal age to get a learner's permit over the summer (not that, reflected Edward, he could even think about getting a permit without his mother to do the paperwork), Ed was delayed a year in the class. Consequently, he was stuck in a room full of older freshman and sophomores for his third period.

One of these freshman was the slightly-younger-than-himself Winry Rockbell. Winry would be sixteen that February, Edward that December. Winry was admittedly one of the oldest in her grade, because her now-deceased psychiatrist parents had been convinced that a later start promoted a better duration. Edward wasn't sure if that was the case usually, but it certainly wasn't the case in most subjects with Winry. Abhorrent in all classes but perhaps Physical Education and any practical art that involved metallurgy, Winry was not exactly an idiot, but focused all her attention into the social aspect of life. Her homework hours were spent on the phone, her classroom time whispering loudly, her tests writing notes to friends. Which Edward was reminded of on that afternoon in particular.

"But what I don't understand," Winry was saying in his ear while he attempted to listen to the completely dry protocol Hughes was spewing word-for-word from the textbook, "is why you _told_ him."

"He's trustworthy. He won't tell anyone," Edward mumbled, annotating a diagram of a four-way stop. _Car at the bottom and car adjacent get to the stop at same time,_ he recited in his head.

"Goddamnit," Edward growled, sitting up in his seat and staring ahead, annoyed. Abruptly, he spun to face his childhood friend. "What would you have done, Winry? 'Kay, sorry 'bout the confusion, bye?' I don't operate like that. You know I don't. He deserved to know the truth,"

A feral gleam was in his eye as he defended his decision to reveal the truth to his… friend.

"He didn't need to know the whole thing. About your mom. That was too much. Not everyone understands about this like me and Gramma, Ed." Winry countered as gently as she could. Ed quaked with rage.

"He's not like that, Winry. He understands perfectly. Don't attempt to advise me on the wisdom behind my friendships, when day-to-day you break the heart of that kid, one of _your_ best friends, who adores you more than that _Havoc_ has even thought about feeling for you." Edward snapped and turned back around in his seat. Winry glared.

"Al's heart is _not_ getting broken," she countered. "It's just a crush. You had one on me, once. It'll go away."

"Winry, for the love of god, it hasn't gone away in the last year, and it isn't just going to fade away because you say it will."

"Enough!" A voice interrupted the both of them. A very beleaguered-looking Mr Hughes glared nuclear missiles at them. "Shut _up_, both of you. Mr Elric, I will see you after class."

"But-!" Edward made to protest, gesturing wildly at the girl behind him.

"Not open to debate, Elric!" Mr Hughes ensured. Edward fell against his desk, letting his head plummet with a resounding thud.

---

"Mr Hughes," Edward sighed after class, approaching his teacher.

"Elric. Edward. I needed to talk to you anyway. Sit down."

"…Yes, sir." Edward gritted out despondently.

"I don't know what to say, I guess. You know, I go way back with Mr Mustang." Hughes started, staring the teen down intently.

"I did not know that," Edward felt obliged to admit.

"Well, I did. I've known him longer than you've known how to feed yourself, in fact. Eighteen years, now. Since the first grade."

_That would put them at about twenty-four, then_, Edward reasoned immediately. The exact age of his older friend had been somewhat of an enigma to him.

"That's… cool." Edward struggled for words. What did Hughes want from him…?

"He's my best friend, Edward. Had my daughter, Elysia, been born male, she likely would've taken his name." Hughes continued. This time, Edward didn't even attempt to reply satisfactorily. "I care about him a lot.

"This last year, he's gone through a lot. I don't mean to talk down Darrel Mustang, god knows he's more of a man than _I'll_ ever be, but he and Roy don't… get along. Despite that, Roy secretly respects his father highly; we share than in common. So when his father had the heart attack, it scared him senseless. On top of that, he was dealing with classes, and had to miss an important test to be in the waiting room of the hospital. It brought down his grade. He excelled to where it wouldn't have been a problem, but when it came to school, Roy was a perfectionist. A bloody perfectionist. A procrastinator. But a perfectionist, all the same.

"In a way, I think that after that test it almost relieved him to learn that he'd have to take the class all over again because he had to return home. But not so much to where he's completely at ease with himself, even now. Aside from missing Crimson more than he'll let on to anyone, even me, he has to deal with a bunch of rotten kids that don't treat him with a shred of dignity. Maybe it's what he deserves, granted. But imagine coming from the top of your class at a reputed school to a high school where no one gives a care. It's a huge culture shock. And he still has to worry about his dad, and managing the bills, and keeping an attendant that isn't scared witless by Darrel's strict demeanor.

"What I'm saying is, if he theoretically was to start a relationship with a student, that would be his decision, and his business. If he thought he could handle it, or rather, if he thought he _should_ handle it, despite all the trouble he could get into, there would be nothing I could do but support him. However, as accepting as I am, I don't want him in _any_ situation that causes more stress than good. So if someone he had started developing feelings for; feelings he doesn't even realize he has yet, but oh yes, he has them; took something he said a little too harshly, and it was causing him extra anxiety, I don't think it'd be good on him. And if that other person cared about him, too, they'd accept his taunts for what they are- the boy pulling the girl's pigtail, or what have you.

"I heard you talking to Winry. Oh yes, I was listening. And I can tell from the way that you defended him, even while you're supposedly 'arguing', that you care. So do him a favor, kid. Forgive him. From what I've heard, you do owe him at least that much."

"That's all."

Edward sat, dumbfounded. Mustang… Roy… Did he really… Edward shook his head, dismissing it.

"We're nothing more than friends, Mr Hughes. If you could call us that."

"Right. Of course." Edward deciphered the multiple layers to his sarcasm. One, he knew Edward didn't believe him. Two, he didn't believe Edward. At least it was a mutual sort of arrangement. Thirdly, of course, nothing more on the matter could be spoken as the time got nearer for the next bell to ring.

"Really, Mr Hughes." Edward insisted as he slowly stood and gathered his schoolbooks about him. Hughes didn't reply, beaming genially at his somber-looking fourth period as they trudged into the room. Edward slipped away, feeling thoroughly jumbled.

---

Edward sighed and collapsed onto his bed.

"Brother, Winry's coming over. She just called." Al yelled from the living room. Ed put his face over his hands, giving a short, humorless laugh. That was _just_ what he needed. He got up from his room and crossed to the adjoining bathroom and stared at his reflection in the mirror. Unruly blonde hair had almost completely escaped the braid he'd fixed it into this morning. He took the hair elastic away completely, letting his golden hair fan over his shoulders. Edward wasn't certain why he kept his hair long. Maybe just for the difference of it; maybe just because he didn't want to bother to go see a hairdresser. Whatever his reason, it was now around his shoulders, and did keep easily. Edward growled and pulled it into a high ponytail in a matter of seconds. It looked hardly any better, at least in his opinion. Frowning, he inclined towards the mirror a bit more, examining his eyes.

Edward wasn't certain how he'd ended up with amber eyes. The shade wasn't at all common, and neither his brother nor his mother had the colour, both of their being warm brown. His eyes were also oddly catlike around the pupils if you looked closely enough, which he often did. Edward slowly turned his face from side to side, looking at himself from every angle. His face was angular, almost feminine in ways, but retaining masculine features at the same time. He frowned, disappointed with his reflection.

_Roy have feelings for me,_ he scoffed. _As if._

He turned away and undressed, running a hot shower. If he could just manage to stay in there long enough for the Rockbell girl to leave, he reasoned, he wouldn't have to deal with her.

It wasn't meant to be. After twenty minutes of standing in the hot water, ten of scrubbing his hair and self clean, and ten more of just standing in the then going-cool water, Edward couldn't stall any longer, and he also heard the impertinent huffs of Winry from his room. Where his clothes were. He dried slowly, ruing having not taken a change of clothes in the bathroom with him, as well as a book, or something.

"Winry," he finally called, sensing the girl would not leave until she had talked to him. "Unless you really desire a full-frontal nude exposure of myself to your sensitive young vision, I suggest you relocate yourself."

A pause.

"As much as I appreciate the sentiment," Winry replied, straining to mimic his articulate speech patterns and sound casual about the whole affair, "I'm not certain that would be possible, as you are wont to run like hell out of this window."

Edward had to give her that one.

"What if you step outside and give me forty-five seconds," he suggested. "I have to get dressed, and I'd be hard-pressed to fly out the window naked, unless you've brought some of your welding materials with you."

Another pause, this one slightly more pregnant than the first.

"Of course not," She answered slowly. Edward shuddered.

"Winry, you aren't really…?" He asked, staring at the bathroom door nervously. A bark of laughter answered him, loosening the tense moment a bit.

"Of course not. Okay, I'm going outside. Forty-five seconds, Elric. I'm counting." She said, and he heard his bedroom door open and close. Edward went calmly into his room and found some clean underwear and jeans and from the hamper a red t-shirt that had been too small on him for years. Going back in the bathroom for a comb, he smiled a little this time at his reflection. Once, he'd been out of other clean clothes to wear to school and had ended up going in that shirt, and had consequently spurred the crushes of quite a few of his classmates by power his unusually toned upper-body. He also couldn't help but notice Winry herself blushing when she came back in. He quickly put his hair into a ponytail and returned to the bedroom.

"Okay," Winry said, staring at him. "We get it. You're hot. You can stop prancing around in that thing now. I mean, come on. It has a _truck_ on it."

"And?"

"You haven't been into things like _trucks_ since you were, well, straight." She smirked, and Edward rolled his eyes showily. He sat down beside his best friend on the bed.

"I'm guessing you didn't come here just to review my choices in hobbies." He prompted, leaning back on the bedspread. His t-shirt rid up his stomach, and boxer shorts peered from the top of his jeans. Winry shook her head and gathered her legs into an Indian style cross-legged position, facing him.

"No," she agreed. "I came here to review your choice in boyfriends." Edward raised an eyebrow and propped on his forearms. He'd never had a boyfriend in his life.

"If you're referring to Roy Mustang,"

"I am."

"…Then you're out of your mind. He's about eight or nine years older than me, okay? Even if I wanted something to happen, there's no chance of it."

"That's what you think. Listen, I saw you two in the cemetery as the bus was waiting in traffic, okay? I was _maybe_ thirty feet away. He wasn't looking at you like a student. Hell, I don't think he was looking at you like a friend."

"You've definitely been hanging around me too much," Edward noted. Winry shook her head.

"Havoc," she corrected. "I'm serious, though. Mr Mustang has _definitely_ got more on his mind than friendship with you. And frankly, I'm not certain you aren't getting in over your head with this one."

Edward bristled. "What would make you say something like that?"

"He's nearly a decade your _senior_, Elric! He flirts with any woman he sees, I've seen it myself, teachers, students, doesn't matter! Maybe he has stronger feelings for you. Maybe he doesn't think about the way he acts, he just does. But he's the type that as _heartbreaker_ written all over him. You'll fall for him, Edward. It's part of his charm, you'll find him completely irresistible. And then you'll be at his mercy."

"What makes you even think I like him?" Edward sighed, finding that of all the angles he wished to argue, this one was the quickest and possibly least painful.

"Please." She shook her head. "You know you want him. I know you want him."

"I don't want him."

"No? He isn't the one you've been waiting to give your first kiss to?" Winry mocked, raising her blonde eyebrows. Edward spluttered.

"I'm not waiting for anything, I just-,"

"Not waiting? Why don't we take care of the problem now, then?" With this Winry leaned close to her friend, whose eyes went wide with panic. Having no control over his vocal chords under stress this great, Edward did the only thing he could think to do: his hands went to the girls shoulders and he shoved her, hard.

Winry ended on the floor beside the bed bursting into peals of strident laughter.

"Oh, Ed, you shoulda seen your _face_," she squealed, kicking at the sky with her legs as she rolled into the laundry on the floor, clutching her stomach. Edward breathed heavily, torn between annoyance and relief.

"Ha. Ha. Ha," he deadpanned. Winry's head popped up over the side of the bed a few moments later, peering at him mischievously.

"See? You're waiting for the right guy." Winry announced before clambering back onto the mattress. Her face became solemn, suddenly. "And you can't tell me honestly that when you thought I was going to kiss you, the guy you really wanted to be in my place wasn't prominent in your thoughts. Sure, there was "DESTROY THREAT IMMEDIATELY" blaring like a siren in your head, but behind that, _his_ face came up. You can't deny it." Edward looked away, frowning. She was right, damn it.

"Okay. Maybe I like him. But Winry, he's a teacher. There's no way. No way in hell. Not with someone like me. I'm not worth the risk." He mumbled the last part, not wanting to seem self-pitying, though he knew it was.

"Listen. If I thought you were playing your words to be asking for compliments, I wouldn't give you a damn bit of help. So when I say this, know that it's sincere, and that I think _you_ need to know it. You are not an ordinary kid. You're a fucking genius, you're prettier than _I_ am, and when it comes down to it, you feel things, really, really deeply. You care for that kid," Winry said softly, jerking a thumb behind her at the closed bedroom door, "More than I've ever seen anyone care about another living person. And that's gotta be hard, because I'm including any reciprocation in the comparison. You have obtained levels in passion in your feelings that most people haven't even comprehended existed, likely myself included. You are extreme. You are exquisite. You are one of a kind. You are worth it," she concluded, reaching for the boy's hand. He met her eyes and was startled to see tears in them.

"Winry…" He began, sitting up, not knowing what to say. She gave a great sniff and looked at him dolefully a moment before tackling him back to the mattress in a ferocious hug.

"Just when I'd started thinking of you as a thing of estrogen-based emotion." Edward muttered, getting the life squeezed out of him.

---

The next day was awkward. Edward walked in to his Algebra class on time with the rest of the students, and didn't acknowledge Roy's existence any more than a shrug and a bit of a wave. Roy frowned, and Edward could have been imagining it, but he seemed more despondent than usual through the lesson. Edward didn't know why he didn't just forgive Roy; it was pretty well understood that that was inevitable anyway. Class ended, and Edward got up to leave with everyone else, but Roy shot him a look that said plainly, "Leave now and die later."

Edward did not really want to die. He did not leave. Roy waited until the room emptied.

"So, how long are you going to be infuriated, Ed? Because I have tot ell you, this is getting old."

"That's just too damn bad, isn't it, then?" Edward snapped with more animosity than he had. Again, he wondered why he didn't just forgive Roy. He wasn't even angry anymore. Roy faltered, not expecting the enmity.

"Can't we just… I don't know…" He sighed heavily, sounding tired.

"Well, you think about it. I'll see you later, Mr Mustang." Ed said, but managed by the end of the statement to moderate his voice to sound almost gentle.

"Ed, wait. If it's okay with you… Call me Roy outside of class, okay?"

"We'll see. Suck up." Edward said, rolling his eyes. Roy grinned, and Edward's lips twitched, unbidden.

"Am I that obvious?"

"Very much so."

"Should I just back off?" Roy asked, suddenly sullen once more. Edward blinked. He was not going to play the pity game with this man, mostly because he couldn't win.

"I'll see you later… Roy."

---

The rest of Tuesday passed in a blur. Edward got to his locker on Wednesday morning and opened it tiredly. He hadn't seen Roy the rest of yesterday, and even though it was insane, he had missed him. He would accept an apology today. He would get over his pride. He had to.

The locker popped open. Inside the chaotic destruction meant nothing next to another item that he had most certainly NOT left there…

A single white tulip with a matching ribbon. Attached by the ribbon was a note…

_I won't be in class today. Last minute staff meeting. I'll be thinking of you._

_-Roy_

On the back of the note was a company-printed generic description of the flower, and what it's meaning was. Of course Roy had selected the flower for forgiveness. Edward blanched. Had he really worried his friend that much? He gave the flower a reverent stroke before placing it gingerly back inside the dark vortex of trash that was his locker and trudged to Algebra and watched the bustling young substitute with the air of someone who'd lost his or her most treasured possession.

---

Roy slunk in his seat. The staff meeting was a bunch of junk on the next fifteen tips to recognize a suicidal student. True to his word, his mind was on Edward. How would the boy react to his flower? It was a risky business. He just meant it in a friendly way (he told himself fervently), but he might take it as romantic and get scared away. He could take it as an insult to his masculinity. He could take it so many ways aside from the intent, and Roy was beginning to regret his choice. Hughes poked him in the shoulder.

"Perk up, Mustang," he whispered. "Their passing out pamphlets. If we're lucky, we might get crayons, too."

Roy snorted humourlessly and fell forward against the rickety folding table.

"Mr Mustang!" Speaker Riza Hawkeye admonished. "Be serious. Sit up."

Roy felt as though this were some cruel joke by fate, but he couldn't put his finger on the pun.

---

Edward got out of Study Hall and made a beeline for his locker. Science Team meeting today. He hated to bring along that flower and get all those curious questions and strange stares, but he couldn't just leave the thing to wilt in his locker. Fuery met him as he closed the locker door, and glanced at the flower. Edward prepared to make excuses, but Fuery said nothing about it.

"C'mon," he said instead. "You know where Ms Hawkeye's room is, right?"

"Yeah, I have her second period."

"That's good. She'll probably be pleased to see you. She's been urging us to bring in new members for weeks now. I wouldn't have bothered except, you know. I really want to be team captain." Feury confided. Edward nodded. They were at Hawkeye's room now. They opened the door and stepped in. Edward surveyed the students with his eyes. It was basically what he imagined; a bunch of teenagers who looked like they sat around and read a lot of fanfiction on the Internet.

(A/N: I mean this in the most loving way possible.)

"Alright, that's Fuery. Everyone, settle down," Hawkeye instructed from a corner, and Edward was startled to see she had been talking with Roy. The desks were arranged in a circle, and the students split from their conversations ("No, see, in Chain of Memories during Reverse Rebirth his Soul Eater is really a Keyblade, but,") and got off the tops and moved their seats behind the desks.

"Today we've got two new people coming in, so I think we'll start with introductions. Okay, we'll start with-,"

"Hey, sorry I'm late!" A voice interjected from the door. Edward's eyes, already disk-sized at the sight of catching Roy, who had been staring back at him (and, notably, the flower) with a paleness that denoted reasonable doubt, further widened as Jean Havoc jauntily burst into the room.

"Jean," Hawkeye rolled her eyes. "You aren't a member. Get out."

"I'm your number one cheerleader!" Jean grinned. "You can't just kick me out. It's ungrateful."

"Fine, sit down and be quiet, then." Riza said, looking torn between annoyance and, if one looked closely enough, what seemed to be amusement. "Okay. Back to introductions. Firstly, I would like to direct your attention to Mr Mustang. You guys may already know him from the math department. He's come to help me school the newbies into shape." Roy's eyes tore from Edward and he gave the room a charming smile. Hawkeye continued.

"Okay. Let's see. We'll start over there with Fuery. Just give a name.

"Hi. I'm Kain Fuery." The black-haired boy waved shyly. It was Edward's turn.

"Edward Elric."

The girl beside him smiled genially. Edward had only seen her around school a few times before, and didn't really know anything about her. He forced himself to tune in to her introduction instead of looking at Roy.

"I'm Louie." She said. She had red hair (that Edward suspected was probably dyed) and blue-grey eyes. A blue-eyed, golden-haired girl sat next to her. She was wearing a cross-country tee, and Edward fuzzily wondered if she was the same girl he'd seen participating in the 100-meter dash during Field Day last year.

"Lunaros Skyeyes," she said importantly. The girl beside her was, he recalled, in his Study Hall. She had blue eyes, rectangular glasses, and brown hair.

"I'm Mandy." The girl next to her was in his first period. He shuddered, hoping she hadn't been one of the ones who'd laughed. She straightened her black t-shirt, pushed bangs away from her face, and adjusted her glasses.

"I'm Mae." She declared. Lastly, beside Fuery, was a short girl with what Winry would probably refer to as a "medium chocolate complexion" and extremely short black hair.

"I'm _[Insert __Anmbcuconnfan's name here_," she said.

"And I'm Havoc!" said blonde piped up from his seat behind Mandy, who jumped at the suddenness of his voice.

"Alright. Business time. We have new texts to study today."

The rest of the meeting passed by quickly. Edward found that he knew the majority of the material already from he own reading ahead, and focused on Roy instead, who seemed to do the same. Edward gave him a hesitant smile, which Roy didn't return. He flicked his eyes to the flower and back to Edward's. Edward's smile ever-so-slightly widened, and he saw Roy give a sigh of relief. Mustang glanced at the boy beside Edward, and Edward gave a shrug. Mustang raised his eyebrows, and Ed, understanding, wrinkled his nose and gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. Before Ed knew it, the meeting was over.

"So, what do you think?" The boy beside him asked. "Think you'll join permanently?"

Edward nodded. If Roy was here, he wouldn't miss it.

"Good!" Hawkeye interjected into their conversation. "Looks like our other recruit is staying, also. Listen Roy," she shot to the man, who was slipping out the door. He looked at her guiltily.

"Yes?" He asked.

"Why don't you tutor Edward here after school, and I'll work with the other one. With any luck, they should both be playable by our next competition."

"Okay." Roy nodded. Edward and he locked eyes, and Roy left, looking embarrassed. Edward said a short goodbye to Fuery and all-but dashed after the older man.

"Hey," Edward greeted his Algebra teacher outside the school. He followed him to his car and got in. "You're taking me home."

"Hey," the other replied suspiciously. Edward shifted. Twice in the last twenty-four hours, _twice_ had he been told that this man before him was attracted to him. Twice. Still, as he faced the other, he didn't believe a word of it. He couldn't. Roy started the car and went onto the main road.

"Need to pick your brother up?"

"No, he went home with Winry today. You know Mason Avenue?"

"Yes." Hughes had lived on that road as a kid. He drove, and there was a silence. Finally, Edward broke it, and like a dam cracked, the flood was unleashed.

"Listen, I hope this isn't a growing trend, me coming to apologize to you every day, but,"

"You don't have to apologize, Edward, I was the one who,"

"Yeah, but I should have just taken it the way it was meant, and not gone all, blah,"

"It was completely understandable, though, that you did, especially after,"

"But it wasn't like _that_ was your fault, that's been going on for years, and you had no way of knowing,"

"Still, if I hadn't insisted on egging you on in the middle of class, and showing off like a five-year-old,"

"Then you wouldn't be you." Edward finished, letting a small smile grace his countenance. Roy sighed; the gesture was making him feel all the guiltier.

"It wasn't the correct environment. I'm sorry, Ed." He added. Edward nodded.

"Hey, don't worry about it, okay? Everything was back to normal during class today. No lasting injury." Edward grinned. Roy nodded reluctantly.

"You think we'll ever get better at this?" He sighed, looking away. Edward was surprised, but didn't hesitate.

"Actually, I think it's pretty much how it's supposed to be as-is."

"I'm not so certain. Edward, we're going to be working together a lot in the next few days. I really would rather not disappoint Riza Hawkeye over some asinine disagreement, okay?"

"I'll play nicely if you will, if that's what you're asking." They pulled up to his house, and Edward realized that Roy must've been speeding the entire way. He indicated which house was his, a nice little blue duplex that, for the most part, was rarely inhabited on the other side.

"I'm asking a bit more, I'm afraid." Roy said quietly, shaking his head as he pulled into Edward's driveway. "Let's come to an understanding. If I happen to hurt your feelings, it's unintentional, okay? Just take it in stride."

"I can't guarantee that. You know I can't, but I will try. Compromise?"

"Certainly." Roy nodded. "Tomorrow after school 'til five, okay?"

"Okay." Edward gave the teacher one last quick smile before opening the door.

"Well, kudos for consistency, I guess," Edward said, looking at Roy questioningly. Roy hesitantly, almost unwillingly, it seemed, brushed the ever-unruly bangs from Edward's eyes.

"Yeah. Well, I guess I'll be seeing you… _shortly_. 'Til then." Roy smirked, letting him go. Edward nodded weakly and stumbled out the door. Roy smiled; he was never one to be one-upped, and he wasn't about to start now.

Edward waved as he pulled away.

---

**Special A/N to ****anmbcuconnfan: I'm sorry I had to make your name all [INSERT HERE like that. I didn't realize that you hadn't included your name until last minute. ::Hands white tulip.:: Forgiveth meeee. I'll edit the chapter as soon as you can reply with a name.**

A/N: EGADS! My goal was 5,000 words. I got passed that. EIGHT-THOUSAND WORDS. This was also the character insertion chapter, as you might have noticed. Sorry about the crack I made at you guys. I couldn't help myself. Dear lord, I don't know if I can up this chapter on word count. I mean, I was hoping for five-thousand so that I can gradually increase the word count like I've been doing but… yeah. I hope you guys aren't overwhelmed. I think I may be, lol. Good god. Twenty pages, kids. Oh! And, I've joined the Writer's Digest Forums, and my screen name is Daydreamishly. If you look at the Writing Prompt replies, I have a few posts up already. My muse is cooperating, you know, for once. Uhm, I love you all? That's about it. PLEASE review, I've worked very hard on this.

-TVG

P.S.: Thank you for anyone who filled my cookie request last time. This time I am in dire need of _muffins_.


	7. When you're in my arms

A/N: Okay, it's 15 July 2007. I updated on the fourth, and I'm just now starting chapter six (seven, to those counting the prologue). A nice week-and-a-half sabbatical I gave mahself there. I'm at my mother's for a month or so, so I'll have a lot more time to write. Making myself write is mostly the problem. Another problem is that _none_ of this chapter is outlined, so for a while at least I'll be going on whim and vaguely formed half-ideas that have been floating in my head. I think that a scene I accidentally left out of chapter four (five, to the ever-present prologue-counters) might make it here, as well as an element I'd been intending to be its own arc, but have since realized that it is too weak to carry on entire plotline, and besides, since things will be coming together for Roy and Edward in a different time-frame from what that scene had initiated, really couldn't have fit anyway. And, uhm. That's about it. The arc we're shifting to now is all about the Science Team. There will be a lot of Roy/Ed fluff, but you know how stubborn Ed is. Nobody's getting together this chapter, at least. So anyway, read and enjoy, and thank you for my (as of yet) fifty-six reviews, twenty-two favourites, forty-eight watches, and even a C2! I love being in people's C2s, by the way. Just so yeh know. OH! AND! **EDIT TO LAST CHAPTER THAT I DON'T FEEL LIKE GOING BACK AND INSERTING BECAUSE IT WILL FUCK UP MY WORD COUNT ((Edit italicized)):**"Okay." Edward gave the teacher one last quick smile before opening the door._Roy, startled into remembering that the teen was leaving, grabbed Edward's elbow in the same place he had only days before._"Well, kudos for consistency, I guess," Edward said, looking at Roy questioningly. Roy hesitantly, almost unwillingly, it seemed, brushed the ever-unruly bangs from Edward's eyes.

Ys. Big difference. I'm sure a few of you had no idea what the hell Ed was talking about. This is what happens when you write a scene, decide it doesn't fit but you like the dialogue, transfer the scene to the end, splice in some new scenery, and then, because you're anxious to publish your next chapter THAT DAY REGARDLESS OF QUALITY, don't recheck the ending to make sure it fits.

Because I'm ttly sure any of you care. Enough rambling. I LOVE I AM GHOST. 'Kay now. Rly, enough rambling.

Damaged People.

OR

**Each Occupation has its Hazards, and You Happen to Be Mine.**

Chapter Six. Pretty Handsome Awkward.

Roy Mustang was completely in control. Com-plee-tell-ee. Or so he told himself, as he pulled away from Edward Elric's street. Something in him rebelled against the assurance (something that sounded ominously like Maes Hughes). He'd breached the one setback he had left as a defense, really. Physical touch. That day in the cemetery he'd fought so hard against sweeping that boy's hair back, and then before that in his car, he'd had other urges. Now not once, but _twice _had he proved that it was all for nothing. As he told himself fervently that there was nothing to it, just because he could give him a friendly grab on the elbow and feel comfortable didn't mean he was in love with him. He'd grabbed Maes similarly uncountable time to get his attention, hadn't he? There was no way he was attracted to that kid. Kid. Fifteen years old. He'd looked it up on the student files. Fifteen.

God, what was he getting himself _in _to?

"No." Roy growled as he came to a stoplight, clutching the steering wheel in defiance of his feelings. "I am _not_ falling for a teenager." And before the voice of Hughes could sound off in his head, "Nor am I lusting after one."

No, not after a teenager. Teenagers were immature, bratty, and thought they knew how to be devoted when really, they were just insignificant, growing things. Teenage relationships were transitory, especially when they least admitted it. But that wasn't Edward. Roy admitted to himself that he didn't know the boy that well (he'd only been friends with him _five days_… on and off…), but he already thought he knew how to read him. How else had they had an entire nonverbal conversation in the middle of a bunch of congregated schoolmates? Roy also felt a particular ease and closeness with Edward he'd never felt this early in an acquaintance. He didn't believe in love at first sight, but this was pretty damn close.

Roy's father's house was about a ten minute drive from Edward's duplex, and, he guessed, about a thirty-minute walk. It was a convenient distance, but Roy wasn't certain that was an auspicious quality. After all, if it was too easy to get up whenever he so pleased to visit the blonde…

The imagination he could have sometimes.

Roy shook his head vigorously, trying to purge it of the lecherous thoughts that had suddenly sprung up. "No more hanging out with Hughes. I definitely need some new friends," Roy said aloud again. He had a habit of speaking to himself when he was especially excited over something. This moment, apparently, qualified. He pulled into his garage and pressed the button on his dashboard again to close the door, not having remembered opening it and driving half the distance in the first place. "Talk about driver's hypnosis…"

"What was that?" It was the new nurse, standing in the doorway adjoining to the house. A solemn young man, the nurse was obviously an Ishvalan immigrant, despite his dark omnipresent sunglasses.

"Hey, Scar." Roy addressed him, knowing him only by the nickname the company representative had introduced him by.

"Good evening, Mr Mustang." Scar said stiffly, sounding like he would rather not be speaking to the man at all.

"I told you yesterday you'd better call me Roy. There are too many Mustangs around here, all arrogant enough to presume you're talking to them." Roy gave a crooked grin. He couldn't help it. The man was attractive, despite his closed demeanor.

"Mr Mustang is already asleep. He asked me to remind you to pay the cable bill," Scar replied, not responding to Roy's "friendliness".

"What's he doing asleep so early?" Roy growled. It wasn't later than five-thirty, he was certain.

"He said he was tired and wished to go to bed. I did not question him." Scar answered, sounding _almost_ defensive.

"Tired so early? You think maybe he's dying?" Roy asked Scar hopefully, leading the other man to the kitchen. Scar aimed a doleful look at him."Er. It was just a joke. Are you hungry?" He asked, looking into a large refrigerator.

"No." Scar said tonelessly. "I am leaving, unless you require my further assistance."Roy seriously considered making up something to keep Scar around. His father was bound to wake up at some point, and when that occurred, Roy did not want to be the person to have to attend to him. Instead, he sighed the negative, and Scar went away. Roy continued looking through the refrigerator. Notable additions included a six pack of sodas, a package of turkey lunchmeat, and cherries. Scar had obviously gone shopping. Roy carelessly threw the meat away (who cares about starving children in Africa when there was _carnage_ in his refrigerator, tainting the presence of the other, more edible possessions? ((a/n: shameless!vegetarian plugging, bitches))) and, purely against his character, grabbed one of the sodas. Roy was exceedingly finicky about his own diet, refusing to eat any animal byproducts and forgoing all that was carbonated, but this once, _this once, damn it,_ he deserved something sweet, toxic, and completely mind-numbing. Soda-pop was like Roy's alcohol.

He sipped reverently and fell onto his blue couch in the living room, flipping through the channels and settling on a movie he'd seen no les than twice that week. The suddenly-blonde!heroine was being kissed senseless by the charming!villain. Roy tuned it out and turned the volume down, surrendering to the inevitable as his mind started operating in disorganized circles. Edward Elric. Ed. Edward.

He remembered his warning to Edward earlier.

_"Edward, we're going to be working together a lot in the next few days. I really would rather not disappoint Riza Hawkeye over some asinine disagreement, okay?"_

The sentiment was more worrisome for Roy than Edward had been privy to. After all, there was the opposite to worry about also, wasn't there? What if they got on… er… too well? Roy couldn't suppress the opinion that Ed was a significantly pretty boy. Even if he fought against the attraction to his _person_, the feature that Roy knew full well was likely to be his downfall, he'd had one-night stands with women he'd found less beautiful than he found Ed. Yes, he could hold himself back from most of his passion, at least for a while, but what about those slips before? Those were not platonic touches, as innocent as the acts themselves were. There was meaning laced in each time he'd touched him, especially moving the hair from his face like he had. Roy couldn't help the roguish grin he had at the memory.

"What're you so happy about?" A voice growled, as though displeased with Roy's spontaneous joy, and Roy was startled to see Darrell leaning heavily on the doorframe of his door.

"Dad!" Roy exclaimed, placing his soda on the coffee table and lurching to his father's side. "What the hell are you doing? You should've called me."

"I can walk around my own goddamn house without informing you of my intent, thanks." Darrel grouched, pushing Roy back. Roy sighed.

"I'm getting the chair. Just sit down and try not to die, old man."

"Funny, Roy." His father grunted and heaved himself to an armchair in the living room, near where Roy had been moments before. Roy rejoined him a moment, unfolding the wheelchair.

"Hop up." He said impatiently.

"I just got settled," Darrell objected. Roy rolled his eyes unsympathetically."You are in one of your sleepy moods today. You'll insist on going to bed and getting up and going back and forth and I've no intention of carting you around like some teenager without a driver's license."

"That's a rather uncharitable thought, when you consider the hell I put myself through back in your youth.""I never opted to be born. _You're_ the one who wanted to procreate. 'S'all part of the arrangement. It was in the job description. I can't be held countable. It was self-inflicted." Roy shrugged.

"Please," Darrel groaned. "Don't remind me." Darrell transferred seating arrangements and Roy sat back down, eyeing his soda can with renewed disgust.

"You look like you were hit by a truck on the way home," Darrell observed genteelly. Roy frowned.

"I just have a lot on my mind. Teaching is a bit more of a trial than I'd anticipated."

"Good. You've always gotten through life too easy, that's what. Azalea pampered the hell outta you lot." 'You lot' referred also to Maes and Gracia, his childhood playmates who had eventually gotten married. "You need a bit of a challenge."

"I guess," Roy sighed dramatically before furrowing his eyebrows. Roy Mustang did _not_ indulge in self-pity. He would get back into control of the situation, even if he wasn't now. He was completely cool. There was no threat here.

Roy marched abruptly to his room and descended onto his bed. However, if he could've looked forward a few weeks into the future, he would have likely hidden _under_ it instead.

---

The next day, Edward Elric walked into Roy's room about five minutes after the final bell.

"Okay," he said. "So what the hell was that today?"

Roy grinned to himself, but refused to let on that he knew what Ed was talking about. He gave the boy large, childlike eyes.

"What was what?" He smiled, looking, if not innocent, then at least handsome enough to distract Edward for a moment. "What was what, Ed?"

"Hmm? Oh, right. Class today! And then you left before I could ask you,"

"I had summons to the office, you heard. Ask me what?"

"I wouldn't care if the Fuhrer himself came in ask you to run in the next election for his party."

"Which would be rather pointless anyway, as I'm anarchist."

"Haha. Pont being, you completely embarrassed me t'day and didn't bother to explain yourself."

"Embarrassed you? However so?" Roy's eyebrows furrowed daintily.

"Well, besides the part where you talked about me nonstop, not at all." Edward said dryly.

"Talked about you?"

"You know. Word problems. Turning all the names, no matter if they were Jennifers or Leahs or Christophers of Johns in Edward. Each time."

"I don't see how this should embarrass you." Roy said, looking politely confused.

"What is my name, Roy?"

"Edward." He replied promptly with a little smile.

"And what name did you use repeatedly."

"Edward. May I ask what you're getting at?"

"You're impossible." Edward sighed and plopped behind a desk in the front row of Roy's classroom. Roy stood up and grinned.

"I have to grab a book from Ri- er, Ms Hawkeye's room." He said before leaving the room for a moment. Edward got up and paced the room a bit. He passed Roy's desk, and couldn't help but feel a bit inquisitive. A grading book was open, and on top of that an unlined piece of blue paper that Edward recognized as the back of one of the school's notices. On it was scrawled diagonally in the same formidably elegant scrawl that lined the dry erase boards and left comments on their graded papers, "help me I'm surrounded by hormonal imbeciles and I don't think I've brought my mace". Edward snorted. Still chuckling, he looked at other things on the desk. Pencils, pens, the occasional comic of a chibi-guy that looked nothing like Roy but for the dark hair and eyes jumping through the classroom windows and running far in the opposite direction, clouds of dust flying behind him. A sheet of paper that was severely crumpled, and looked as though it had been straightened again, left in a wrinkled concave curl that was faced away from Edward. Her tipped the paper towards himself curiously, and noticed a single word on it.

"Elric."

Edward jumped at the sound of his name, embarrassed to have been caught. He decided to cover it up with a halfhearted joke.

"Why'd you crumple my name up?" He asked, pointing to the scribble of his surname.

"Would you rather I framed it?"

"Maybe you could just use it in a word problem or two," Edward said slyly, sitting back down.

"Now there's an idea," Roy agreed, grinning. "You may as well come back up here; Riza only had one copy of this book. I guess we're lucky she had that."

"Why can't we just use the regular physics books? That's what you're getting me ahead in for the team, right? Physics?"

"Right. I just don't like the new books. They're written for high school students, and I think it's pretty obvious that you're above that level."

Edward flushed. He somehow didn't mind Roy referring to his above-average intelligence, perhaps because he was qualified to make a valid comparison.

"Okay, we'll start at chapter one."

"I'm already bored."

"I am too."

With this preamble, they began their lesson, and Edward realized that he retained facts much better when Roy was reciting than when Ms Hawkeye was, even by _his_ standards. At five, as they were packing up to go home, Edward decided to mention this, having just gotten a perfect score on the end of the chapter quiz Roy had issued verbally.

"I guess I just listen to you more easily. It helps that you aren't pretentious like a teacher. Don't get me wrong," he added at Roy's (who had no delusions about his own personality) raised eyebrows, "you're pretentious in your own way, but not in the normal 'I'm obviously smarter than you, so I'm going to be smug and tell you the reason the Earth is round' way."

"Well, thank you, I think." Roy said, chuckling. "Am I taking you home again?"

"Yes."

"Good. I'll keep you and feed you and everything. You may have to hide in my closet, though. Dad doesn't like strays. Doesn't want to clean up my messes, see."

"I don't see why, it's not as though you don't clean up for him." Edward growled, and Roy looked quite taken aback. "Sorry. I just don't think it's fair you had to give up college for him, and the way you talk sometimes, I know you don't mean to sound disrespectful, but sometimes you seem to convey that idea on your own."

There was a pause as Roy registered the nearly protective comment from Edward happily.

"Well, I don't know. Maybe I thought that before, but I've settled down here some. I think I'm pretty good at teaching, actually. And, after all, if I hadn't come here…"

"Yes?" Edward asked, expecting contemplation of how they never could have fallen in lo-er, -cough-.

"My pay wouldn't be half as good, seeing as how I usually work part time in café." Roy finished with a smirk.

"Oh. Right." Edward blushed, walking with Roy to the car. Roy smiled to himself.

"And… I wouldn't've met you." Edward smiled also, not looking at Mustang. They walked in a companionable silence to the car.

---

"I hate my life." Edward announced by way of greeting after school, day the next.

"Ah, to be young again," Roy replied wistfully without missing a beat. Edward collapsed into a chair that Roy had drawn up to his desk to explain problems to his students during fourth period.

"Feh," was all Edward had the energy to respond. This, needless to say, disturbed Roy a bit.

"Well, going to tell me what's wrong, then?"

"No. Definitely not." Edward said firmly. "I do not want to talk about it. Chapter three," he prompted. Roy opened the book.

"Okay, today we'll be studying…" He stopped reading and peered at Ed. "You're really not going to tell me what's going on?"

"Bah. Don't worry about it."

"It's nothing to do with your brother? No one's found out about…"

"No, nothing like that."

"Well, what then?" Edward heaved a sigh. Roy wouldn't let this go, he knew.

"There's a rumour going around school." He muttered, looking away. Roy's eyes widened almost imperceptibly. Had someone guessed about his attraction to Edward and was causing problems over it…?

"About me." Edward added, unnecessarily.

"Well, from what I can tell, that's not exactly new for you, is it?" Roy asked smoothly, trying to sound calm.

"No. But this rumour, is particularly, gah," he said, throwing this hands in a wild self-strangling motion to illustrate his point. Roy grimaced.

"And it is…?"

"Well…" Edward hesitated, extremely embarrassed. "There are a couple of girls in Winry's grade who are _absolutely convinced_ that I am harbouring non-platonic feeling for Winry."

"Oh," Roy said carefully, trying not to look overly relieved. He contemplated what Edward had just said to him, and attempted not to choke with laughter. "So… are you?"

Edward fixed him with a level glare. "You're funny," he deadpanned.

"Well, I don't know. The concept isn't entirely preposterous. She's an attractive young woman, and you're an-,"

"Yes?" Edward interrupted, and Roy smirked at his eagerness.

"_Intelligent_ enough young man…" Edward looked disappointed at the insinuation to his genius rather than any physical merit he might have warranted approval of from Roy. "And you two seem to be… close."

"Yeah, well, there's just one problem with the theory, isn't there?" Edward said, waving an exasperated hand.

"Is there?" Roy queried innocently. Edward growled.

"Are you going to make me come out and say it?"

"Say what?"

"Just the rather obvious fact that my orientation does not have any slight inclination to the opposite sex in general?" Edward remarked, expressionless. Roy laughed aloud.

"Well, that would hinder any romantic attachments in that particular pairing a bit, I should think," a wicked look crossed his face, "unless you count the fact that you're short enough to be girl,"

"Okay. Okay, that's fine. Except, I think that I am going to dismember you."

"Ah, you wouldn't dare." Roy grinned. "You like me too much."

"Or, at least, I'm too afraid of Ms Hawkeye to do anything drastic." Edward shrugged, which brought another laugh from his friend. Roy calmed a bit, though his face remained impishly jovial. Ed looked at him warily.

"Aren't we supposed to be doing something here?"

The lesson went as smoothly and quickly as the day before, and Edward was as receptive to new knowledge as always. Roy closed the book triumphantly.

"That," he said happily, "is half of what Riza needed me to teach you by next week's competition."

"Well, good for us, I guess." Edward smiled weakly, suddenly saddened that he had unknowingly cut his time with Roy shorter.

"And the quicker we can get over this and the season can close, we can work on those lessons I suggested." Roy added, sensing Edward's disappointment. Ed perked up instantly.

"Really? You won't be too busy?"

"Of course I will," Roy scoffed arrogantly. "People are begging for my attention 24-7, 'Roy, solve this for me' this, 'Roy, marry me' that, but I'll set aside some of my limited time."

"You realize you just insinuated that I'm more important than anyone who would propose to you." Edward pointed out with a smirk.

"Not exactly," the other countered. "The furthering of your education. You'll be a well-paid genius one day, and I will come to reap the profits of my investment. Cash, no checks."

"For that, Mustang," Edward countered, "Your name has been erased from my Flamel Prize acceptance speech."

"Mhm. But I am a million and a quarter million dollars richer for it, so I think I'm actually not that bad off."

"Yes. That should buy you a nice room in a prime retirement home, Old Man." Edward retorted.

"Old? I'm not even twenty-five…" Roy bit his lip. Did Edward really think of him…?

"Well, maybe not yet," Edward conceded to Roy's relief, "but by the time I obtain national fame, you will be."

"Come on. If I'm old, you will be also. We can't be more than ten years apart."

"Nine. I'm fifteen."

"See?"

"Well, perhaps. But that doesn't change the fact that you're not on my speech."

"Not even a side-note? 'Gracias, you bastard', as you would put it?"

"That's not exactly something you say in from of the collected scientific community." Edward mentioned.

"And that would stop you on which alternate plane…?"

"I don't know. I can be well-behaved if I want to."

"Edward, you couldn't be respectful to the Fuhrer himself." Roy didn't know why, but he had a feeling he had this on good authority.

"Couldn't? Maybe wouldn't."

"Couldn't," Roy confirmed. He checked his watch, and Edward was disheartened. Roy noticed the embarrassment on his face when he looked up.

"Sorry, no, it's not you," he said, and Edward, far from being assured, only looked more humiliated at being read so easily.

"Oh, yeah, I know that," Edward lied, looking at his lap and discreetly letting his bangs fall into his face to hide its hurt. Instinctively, Roy leaned forward and pushed the bangs from the boy's face away again.

"No, really," he said softly. "No, it's my, no, well, my Dad's nurse. If I'm late, he gets… irritable. But, you know. I'd of course rather not have to go." Then suddenly feeling self-conscious at displaying openly so much emotion, he added, "I'd rather be anywhere than with my Dad."

He groaned inwardly at that. He knew Edward was overly self-conscious, and despite the fact that Roy already had the feeling he knew the boy better than anyone else did, this just reinforced his opinion that Edward couldn't look around his own insecurity to recognize Roy's.

"Ah, I understand. My brother is probably waiting, also." Edward said awkwardly, and Roy noticed with a start that the tips of his fingers were still poised behind the boy's ear in the act of pushing back his ever-unruly hair. Roy withdrew the accursed appendage as though it had touched molten metal, and neither of them remarked upon that as they got ready to leave. The car offered them some warmth against the early November chill. Roy drove Edward home and only spoke of mild topics on the way, mostly school related. Finally, they came to Edward's home. Alphonse, who had presumably heard the car approaching, rolled his wheelchair onto the front step to greet his brother. Roy stiffened, conscious of the stare he was getting from the younger Elric.

"So, I guess I'll see you Monday," Edward said, sounding almost glum. Roy breathed deeply at was he was about to offer. He'd had the thought on his mind all the way here, and as ill-advised as it seemed, Roy didn't want to spend the weekend like the last, alone.

"I was actually wondering if you'd like to continue our study sessions through the weekend, and be finished by Monday. Unless, of course, you're busy."

"Oh, alright." Edward replied, brightening a bit, yet trying to hide being so uplifted. "Where would you like to, uhm, meet?"

"I was actually sort of wondering if you'd be interested in coming for my house. I'd like you to meet my Dad." He knew Edward wouldn't refuse, yet Roy felt apprehensive asking anyway. More to himself than to Edward, he added, "Of course he and the nurse would be there, also."

"O-okay." Edward acquiesced, looking uncharacteristically timid. "Er, are you going to pick me up, or…"

"Oh, yes, yeah, expect me around… four?" Edward nodded and waved with a smile before dismounting from the car. He watched Edward meet his brother on the top step and laugh at something the younger boy related to him. He waved back again to Roy, who caught himself grinning like an idiot back and waving also, which abruptly turned into an artificial smile and vehemently dismissing waves. The second the Elrics were out of sight, Roy dropped his hand and pulled out of the driveway, ignoring the wailing of his tires. He drove above the speed limit all the way home, hoping to out speed his racing mind.

"Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck," Was his eloquent opinion of the matter. Because now there was no denying that he had one hell of a schoolboy crush… on a schoolboy.

And he'd just invited him to meet his shrewd, shrewish father.

The funny thing perhaps being that for one instant, one pure, silver instant, he'd allowed himself a visionary moment of himself charming the Elric boy into state of blissful submission and then…

Goddamnit.

The imagination he could have sometimes.

---

Saturday dawned clear and bright; not in the least foreboding. This did not explain the deep sense of dread that had settled prematurely into Edward Elric's solar plexus. He tried to put his finger on the accursed cause of such anxiety as he sat up, blinking in the bright sunlight, but nothing came to him. Had he overslept? No, it was only nine. Had he lost something important? No, nothing lost, everything in place. Had someone died? No, that wasn't it either…

"Brother? Brother, breakfast is ready. And don't think you can get out of drinking your milk this time; I've already poured two glasses, and I'm not throwing it out, nor am I drinking yours for you this time."

Ah yes. Saturday. Breakfast with Alphonse. Joy.

Edward stumbled blearily into his adjacent bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror as he slathered minty toothpaste onto his red toothbrush, and had to fight the impulse to step back in horror.

To say he looked messy would've understated the devastation of it all.

His eyes had great grey circles beneath them, and his hair was more unkempt than ever. The left side of his face was red from sleeping pressed against his hand, and his eyes were a startling shade of yellow.

All in all, Edward thought, he could have passed for classic example of withdrawal symptoms quite nicely.

On the day he was going to meet his best friend's hateful father.

Great.

Edward decided to push side the problem at hand until his teeth were clean and his breakfast consumed. In fact, halfway through his toast, Edward had almost forgotten that atrocious beast that was his reflection and gone off into planning-witty-dialogue-to-impress-Roy-with Land. Ah, yes. PWDTIRW Land was his home away from home, his private abode for the last week and one half. Unfortunately it would not, he realized, bear him asylum against the fearful combination of motherly!Alphonse and his unrepentantlyfoul!milk.

As soon as he'd finished chugging the milk down and he had his hair assuming a semi-straight (that's ironic) arrangement, Edward had sudden reason to frown to himself. Because that awful ominous sense… that unwelcome apprehension he'd awoken with… had come back. With a vengeance.

It came to him in a bolt of understanding that civilized man calls an "epiphany", and uncivilized man calls something more akin to "kmiupekrjsrp9jfojdf burp".

He was going to be alone at some point today with his educator, his mentor, his best friend, whom he was very wont to be open and honest with, as well as instinctively physical.

And he also had a strange feeling that without the omnipresent suppressing atmosphere of a school building, a cemetery, or high Amestris City traffic, the only three places Roy and Edward had ever been together, it would be a bad job to expect himself to not be overly comfortable at some point or other and…

"Fuckimagniationfuckimaginationdon'tGOTHERE," was Edward's position on the issue.

---

Edward had not quelled his fear by the time his teacher arrived to pick him up for their study session. He had, however, managed to busy himself to where his thoughts on the matter were impromptu and scattered. Every single one of them resurfaced as he opened the door, ceasing an impatient (almost apprehensive?) sounding doorbell ring; impatient and apprehensive for its rapid and successful reparation.

"Hello Edward," Roy said with a sultry smile as Edward smiled in reply, staring mostly at his shoes and blushing some. It was a very inopportune for his quick mind to compare the meeting at hand with a man picking up his date for the night.

In the same space of time, Roy's mind made a facsimile discovery.

"Hello, Roy," Edward said finally. He felt awkward, not knowing whether or not he should invite Roy in or just go out.

"Let's go ahead, I've met your brother, and I'm sure we'll see each other again soon." Roy said, seeming to read Edward's mind. "He's gonna be alright while you're, ehm, with me?"

"Yeah, he's pretty proficient at taking care of himself. And Winry may come by." Edward replied, stepping out and closing the door behind himself and keeping a steady examination of his laces. Which were on a nice pair of shiny black shoes he rarely wore, and which may well have been Alphonse's besides.

"You," Roy said resolutely, deciding this behavior wouldn't do at all, hooked a finger under Edward's chin and lifted his face so their eyes met. "Have got to lighten up. We've got a good few hours of lessons to go through, and there's no way we're attempting it with you being all somber and quiet. You look amazing, by the way," he added, almost gruffly, before putting a hand on Edward's back and guiding the now dumbstruck boy to the car. He opened the door, and Roy was pleased to see the boy blushing as he dumbly sat in the passenger seat. Roy closed the door and crossed to his side of the car. His last comment, though impulsive, had been completely true. Edward had forgone his braid today and left his hair down, which was much prettier on the boy than Roy would have ever guessed. He wore a red sweater vest over a white button-down shirt, and khaki pants. All in all, the picture of the perfect pupil.

Which, Roy reminded himself sternly as he pulled out of the driveway, Edward _was_. Additionally, not at all molestable according to the law. Damn.

---

"Dad!" Roy called as he entered his home. Edward trailed half-stumbling, looking around in amazement. Well, it was only to be expected. The Roy's father's home was a smart little McMansion that looked like every other house this side of the outskirts of the city, but it was probably, despite prosperous parentage, the closest thing to a real mansion Edward had ever placed foot inside.

"Dad, I'm back. Edward's here, too." Roy looked back to see aforementioned blonde staring in the foyer at a large portrait of the Mustang family; him, his mother, and his father, all looking incredibly sober and plastic.

"Wow," Edward whispered as Roy drew near.

"It was my mother's outfit choice…"

"Uhm. It really doesn't matter if Satan insisted. That's still a bowtie."

"It was really a bit more becoming in person…"

"Oh, I'm sure."

"And my knees weren't really that knobby. The painter made them that way."

"Mhm."

"And the logo on that jacket is just from my prep school. Not a family crest or anything."

"What I like are the knee socks. Quite fetching."

"Hey, let's focus on my dead mother! See, there she is, with her arm on my shoulder…"

"And good lord, Roy. Are you aware that your ears were two sizes too large for your head?"

"…She loved me and she's dead and she loved this picture. Isn't that tragic?"

"Nearly so tragic as not having many pictures of your mother at all because you burned most of them in rage one Christmas." Ed countered wryly.

"Ah, yes, indeed. Let's go meet my captor, er, father, shall we?"

"Indeed, let's do." Edward let out an audible snort. "Knee socks…"

"Please shut up now." Roy pleaded as they entered the TV room. His father was in the recliner, watching some war documentary.

"Bow tie," Edward whispered in a sing-song tone just before he caught his first sight of Darrel Mustang, retired general, professional curmudgeon, who stood and limped over on a cane.

"So, is this the young protégé of my spawn?"

"That would be me." Edward replied, smiling awkwardly. He offered a hand. Darrel shook it gruffly, seeming to wish the formality weren't necessary.

"Well. You certainly look like a book nerd, just like my son." he replied with a shrug. Edward raised his eyebrows, not exactly displeased despite the dark tone to be compared with Roy, who met his eyes with a trace of amusement mixed into predominant annoyance. Roy helped his father back to the seat.

"Dad, Edward and I are going to be in the study. Where's Scar?"

"Scar?" Ed queried curiously, never having heard the name before.

"Our nurse," Roy supplied.

"What names these young ones come up with these days," Edward mused, and Roy laughed.

"Hell if I know," Darrel interjected, apparently ungrateful of the merriness his son was displaying before his eyes. "Probably in the kitchen. Goddamn coward, jumps if you talk to him straight."

"He doesn't do that with me. He's really sort of brash, actually." Roy replied congenially.

"Well, maybe if he'd act that way around me I'd have an ounce of goddamned respect for the jellyfish." Darrel replied before changing the channel on his telly with the remote and turning up the volume in a covert sign of dismissal.

"All right, Ed," Roy said, pulling the boy by the elbow behind him, "Let's get started."

Three hours later Roy and Edward had finished all but a single chapter of the book and were completely exhausted. However, unbeknownst to them, their trials and tribulations had only just begun.

---

"Speak up, boy." Darrel ordered.

"I said, thank you for inviting me to dinner," Edward yelled.

"Goddamnit boy, you don't have to _shout_. I'm not deaf; I just wanted you to stop your pathetic muttering."

Edward's eyes widened in surprise, and beside him Roy discreetly touched his arm and shot him a look of utmost apology.

"Get your hand away from that boy, Roy, and stop coddling him. He's a man, if I want him to speak clearly he should be able to do that without taking offense," Darrel added pointedly over his bloody steak that made Roy cringe just to look at.

Incidentally, it was at this moment that Roy decided that 1) he didn't exist, 2) this was all a bad dream, and 3) since something that didn't exist couldn't possibly dream, this would all end very very soon in a puff of logic that we've already defined as an epiphany, or, alternatively, kmiupekrjsrp9jfojdf burp, depending on how civilized you consider yourself.

"Pass the broccoli?" Scar asked Edward casually, either not noticing the younger boy's discomfort or not caring. Edward shivered, additionally pressured. He didn't know why, but for some reason, the broad, tan, bespectacled man gave Edward unpleasant vibes. Nevertheless, he passed the broccoli with as much amiable goodwill as passing broccoli customarily warrants.

"So, boy," Darrel said, apparently addressing Edward, "what do you intend to make of your life? Hopefully something more worthwhile than my teacher child here," he added as an afterthought.

"His name is Edward, not 'boy'." Roy interjected bitingly.

"That's alright. He can call me whatever the hell he wants. Actually, _sir_, I want to go into genetics." Edward replied brusquely.

"Really?" This came from Roy, who'd never thought to ask this about Edward before. Edward looked at Roy and blushed at the curious intensity he saw.

"Y-yeah. I, er, I want to try and work on curing paraplegia, and, you know, I thought that would be the way to go," he admitted.

"Goddamn waste, if you ask me. We don't need the cripples fixed, just gets 'em out of hospitals and on the streets begging for money like everyone else." Darrel said around a bite of baked sweet potato.

"Pass the butter?" Scar asked of Edward, who had just cut far more of the stick than he wanted in shock of what Darrel had just said. Roy took it and the butter knife gently from Edward's hands and passed it while the boy continued to stare at the oldest Mustang, dumbstruck.

"Much obliged," Scar said in perfect monotone.

"Don't mention it," Roy said weakly, looking nervously at his frozen blonde friend. "Er, Edward…"

"Now is not the best time to engage me in conversation," Edward said, snapping out of his paralyses and shoveling broccoli into his mouth. He, out of consideration of Roy, who only minutes before had revealed his strict veganism to Ed, had also opted to miss out on the dead animal dish for this meal. Unfortunately, reflected Roy, Edward hadn't stopped to consider the origins of butter, but it was, after all, the thought that counted.

"Don't dramatize. You know it's true. Or, well, you might not. Long hair. You're probably one of those new age hippie kids, aren't you?"

"No," Edward bit out. "I may prefer peace over the slaying of innocents, but I wouldn't call myself a hippie. And no, I don't know that my brother being cured of paraplegia would relate him to become a homeless bum."

"Your brother, eh? What caused that? Inbreeding?"

Roy slumped over and covered his face with his hands. Edward quaked with rage.

"No," he said said slowly, evenly. "He was injured in the car accident that killed my mother."

"Oho! Drunk driving? Well, Goes to show a woman can't hold her liquor quite like a man, eh?"

"My mother never drank in her life, sir." Edward retaliated instantly.

"And you know this how, exactly?"

"From my best friend's grandmother, who knew my mom when she was a girl until she died."

"And this eyewitness has a name?"

"Pinako Rockbell."

"Ha! Rockbell. I know this Rockbell, boy. She made my wheelchair. Expect she made your brother's too, eh? Or at least she claims to. Me, I've always expected that she's got a ban behind-the-scenes doin' all the work for her, passin' it off as her own…"

And this was the point that Roy could not stand it anymore. He leapt from the table and dragged Edward with him out of the room calling as he went, "Scar, you're excused for the night. Darrel, you will die before I get home if you've got any brains in your thick scull."

---

"Let me make this up to you," Roy pleaded as he walked Edward to his doorstep. He prayed to god Alphonse wouldn't interrupt them.

"You don't have to. It's fine, Roy. You didn't do anything."

"I led you into the lion's den," Roy said, sounding guilty.

"It's okay. Come on, do I look like my feelings are hurt?" Edward asked, almost impatient. Roy considered.

"Yes." He answered. "Maybe not to most people, I guess. But you're offended. Which I regret immensely, let me assure you. If I had thought…" he cut off here, cursing under his breath. "No one's supposed to ridicule you like that. Me excepted, possibly."

Edward's eyes softened considerably. "Roy…"

"I mean it. It was incredibly ungracious of him to behave so. I wish like anything I could go back and have offered we go somewhere, anywhere else…"

"I guess so. I mean, I'm really not angry at you. Not at all."

Roy sighed. "But you're still angry, aren't you?"

"Well, I mean. I just, I'm a little annoyed he can already hate me. Just like that, off the bat. I… I wanted him to like me, I have to admit." Edward confessed. He looked irate and disappointed and utterly familiar to Roy in that moment, and Roy wanted to kiss him so badly his teeth hurt.

"Let's go somewhere tomorrow. Just you and I. To the park. We'll finish up in the Physics book and I'll buy you an ice cream."

"Ice cream? And here I thought you were vegan," Edward countered, lightening the mood.

"I said I'd buy you one, I didn't say I'd partake of the stuff myself. So, how about it?"

"Make that a cherry popsicle, and you've got yourself a study buddy." Edward grinned. The moment felt cliché, but hell, it felt good at the same time. All it was missing was a good night kiss and…

"Brilliant. Be ready at eleven tomorrow. Don't sleep too late!" Roy called, walking back to his car and giving his trademark smirk.

Edward slumped onto the exterior wall aligning the side of his top step and merely waved back.

Well, no kiss, but there was always tomorrow.---

Roy found himself driving over the speed limit a lot lately, so it wasn't much wonder that he finally got caught by the police.

"Well now," the cop said pleasantly as Roy handed over his license and registration with pursed lips. "In a bit of a hurry, aren't we?"

"Yes. Yes, there's someone I'm dying to murder right about now, so I really must be going." Roy said, and the policeman raised eyebrows at him.

"You _do_ realize you just admitted intent to kill to an on-duty police officer."

"Yes." Roy said. "Yes, I do."

"Okay, just checking. Well, here's your ticket. Not a bad fine this time; you're lucky you aren't drunk."

'How can a person be _lucky_ not to be drunk? They're either drunk or they aren't; luck hasn't a goddamned thing to do with it,' Roy thought to himself. Instead, he choked out a thank you to the officer and pulled back out onto the road, driving carefully back home. That was the first ticket he'd actually ever received, despite having been pulled over before. He'd charmed his way out of many before. Oh yes, Darrel was going to pay for this. Literally, as well as a violent metaphor.

Reaching his garage, he slammed his car door loudly enough to echo throughout his home. He tramped heavily into the kitchen and where Scar was wrapping leftover bowls with saran wrap.

"Scar," Roy said, not pausing in his strides, "go home."

"The food-,"

"I'll get it. In fact, throw the meat away on your way out. You don't want to be here right now." Roy said as he opened the dining room door. Whether or not Scar complied relied totally in the sunglasses-donning nurse's mental capability. Roy personally didn't care for anything but his damned father at the moment.

Darrel was not in the dining room.

Roy marched on.

Darrel was not in the television room.

Roy trooped forward.

Darrel was not in his bathroom.

That left basically one place, and Roy was not especially eager to have bloodshed in his sweet mother's former resting place. However, as damaging to her memory as torturing his father likely was, Roy was on a higher level of existence than bothered with such trivialities as _will and __testament of the dead_.

"Father," he roared savagely as he burst into his father's bedroom. Mustang senior was shirtless, wiry grey hair covering his large, plumped chest, propped up in bed, reading with assistance of thick glasses a newspaper.

"Take a seat, son," he said. "Goddamned country going to waste."

"I will _not_ take a seat, I,"

"I like him."

This, being completely opposite of anything Roy was expecting to hear out of his father on any alternate plane within any dimension including the nine of them in which the two of them were replaced by hermaphrodite safety pin licking squirrels with amnesia, deflated him completely. Roy fell heavily onto the chair at the vanity that had been his mother's.

"You know how I feel about your ambiguous sexuality, Roy. I think it's trashy. Sinful. I raised you to believe in God and man and man and woman and man's duty to protect woman and woman's duty to pay man back with producing offspring. Your mother was an accepting woman, she balanced me out a lot. But now, even knowing what she thought, I can't restrict my thoughts on it. It's just who I am. I've always been outspoken, more so since Azalea died. You know that already. But I'm also honest as hell. So I'll tell you two things right now and I don't think you'll like either of them, but they'll be the truth and in my opinion that's what counts in this world. One is that I'm ashamed as a general rule of having a bisexual son. The second being that I wouldn't be ashamed of you being… bisexual with this Elric boy."

"Dad…" Roy said heavily, not knowing exactly _how_ to object but knowing only that he _should_, "Dad, Edward's my student. We're nine years apart."

"Your mother and I had a decade's difference, and had a very successful marriage."

"Yes, but, but Dad. Things were different when you and mom were dating. Or courting. Whatever they called it in the Stone Age. Things were a lot different."

"Maybe." Was all Darrel said in reply. "What the hell do I know? I mean, I could've sworn you were in love with this Edward Elric, but I can be wrong. Maybe you'll find a decent woman after all."

"That's not… I mean, I do, well, I don't _love_, but…" Roy heaved a great sigh. "What it comes down to, I suppose, is that I'm not good enough for him. And so long as that is true, which by your records will probably be always, I _can't_ be anything more than his teacher."

"If there's one thing I would be more ashamed of than a bisexual son (hell, at least a gay man has his _mind_ made up), it's a coward. You won't be living under my roof making up excuses like that, hear me?"

"Excuses? I'm being honest, Dad, I-,"

"Then you're being a fool. This Elric boy may be outspoken, smart, and pretty damn decent from what I know, but he's nothing that a Mustang can't deserve."

This is the last bit of insanity that Roy could bear before departing to his own room. And dear god, did he feel a headache coming on.---

A/N: OKAY. My Opening Author's note was already too long so I'mma go ahead and write this bit of the closing before I finish writing the chapter. OMFGHARRYPOTTERANDTHEDEATHLYHALLOWS. I won't go into the plot analysis or anything so I don't ruin anything for those of you who actually haven't read it yet, but just know that if it weren't for MY FAVOURITE CHARACTER DYING it'd be my favourite yet. ANYWAY. How about we talk about _this_ fandom, so people will actually care what I'm talking about- specifically, what's to come in DP, chapter six.

You all are going to hate me. I have a feeling.

The thing is, I've been plotting this story for months, and every outline I've ever made has had this next plot to it, and I can't just abandon it. You're going to have to bear through it. Trust me, I won't like the agony of it either. But it will be done. Cryptic, ne? I'm not killing anyone, and no one's getting pregnant. I'm just saying. Look out. If you want me to be honest, I was sincerely tempted to have Ed and Roy kiss in this chapter. But I just couldn't. Not with what I've got planned. Sowwy. Y'know what I really need to add in here? Havoc and Winry scenes. Just so you can get a feel for their relationship. That is actually going to be important in a way later. Ah! That's all I'll say, that's all I'll say! Do you want to know something odd? As I was writing this, I had fully envisioned the end scene as an argument between them. I was surprised as you are to read that he actually _likes_ Edward Elric. Ohohoh! 8,500 words. I know. I'm magic. Pure fucking magic. Daydreamishly!

-TVG, M.D. (not really, I just wanted to sign a letter like Hannibal Lecter.)


	8. The world makes sense

A/N: We'll start in the usual way, my opening Author's Note. So, I got twenty-one reviews for the last chapter. That's the most reviews I've ever gotten for a chapter of anything, ever. I don't think you guys understand how much that really, really means to me. And I've been so ungrateful with my lack of prompt and lengthy chapter updates, ugh. In my defense, I've been busy with schoolwork and band these past few weeks. The summer goes by quickly, doesn't it? It's my Junior year this year, like Edward. I don't think I'll be romancing up my teachers, though. Especially considering that unlike Roy, my teachers are rather decrepit and devoid of sense of humor. Alas.

Thanks for your excellent attentiveness to my writing, please continue to review and add to your C2 communities! Oh, and if you haven't already listened to the fabulous Depeche Mode's (my favourite band evar) song Damaged People, than you really have no idea what deeply moving piece of music spawned the title and the navigation chapter title lyrics.

Damaged People.

OR

**Each Occupation has its Hazards, and You Happen to Be Mine.**

BETA'D BY KIBA'S MEWSE

Chapter Seven. Homewrecker.

Winry Rockbell was one of those girls who didn't have to try very hard to get very nearly any guy she so pleased, and what was worse yet, she knew this. Girls her age were turned off by the secret tomboyish charm that attracted their prospective beaus, and so she found herself constantly in the company of boys. This is how she got to be best friends with Edward Elric in their Kindergarten year, and it didn't hurt that his mother had lived next door to her grandmother, then a young girl and middle-aged woman, respectively.

As she could not possibly hope to find a chase of any of her boyfriends, Winry had a habit of at least chasing the more rebellious ones. She had to have a bit of fun with her love life _somehow_, after all. At that fateful age of five, the girls already head over heels for the boys in their classes at a moments' notice, the boys mostly unconcerned with romance except for focusing their small hearts on the loud, roughhousing blonde who tore her dresses and made her hair fall out of its perfect ringlets by tackling the boys to get her four-square ball back, Winry saw one boy who could capture her interest amongst the masses of hopefuls. Winry saw Edward Elric.

At first, Edward couldn't stand Winry. She was loudmouthed, giggly, not so stupid as she should have been, had much better penmanship, and most importantly, she was _taller_ than Edward. Winry laughed and teased the boy, who rebuked her taunts with considerable five-year-old malice. This all changed the day Edward got sent home from school early for making Winry Rockbell cry.

Years later, Edward would find he no longer remembered what he had said to make tears spring into the ever-buoyant Rockbell girl's eyes, and, incidentally, that it didn't much matter. But Winry would always recall the way he shouted from the ground (she had just tripped him) in a playground surrounded by a circle of guffawing children: _You try so hard, and I still don't like you. I know you try, even if you think you're so great at hiding it. I still don't like you at all, and I never ever will. _

That day Edward's mother called Pinako Rockbell, guardian to Winry. Winry's parents, doctors who had met at a seminar the local community college, were not married. After work one night, buzzed off of too much alcohol at the bar a few blocks away, Winry was conceived. The two decided mutually that they could not afford to put their busy work life behind them; their life of saving lives. Sarah Rockbell, mother of the expected infant, appealed to her mother. Sarah Rockbell, classmate and neighbour (though never especially close friend) to Trisha Montgomery. Trisha Montgomery, who would at age seventeen marry Hoenheim Elric.

When Trisha contacted Pinako, she was entirely surprised to hear the slightly aged voice of her beloved childhood acquaintance. A play date was scheduled. Winry was brought to the Elric household the next day, Saturday.

The adults rejoiced in reunion; the children stared at each other shyly. Winry was ashamed to have gotten Edward into trouble, and causing Winry to shed tears had brought to the boy humility that had never been present before. Trisha suggested the two go play outside, where Alphonse was busy swinging. Winry curiously inquired to the younger boy's furious strains with the little seat and chains.

"He's bent," Edward explained, "on proving that it is possible to go over the top."

"It is," Winry agreed, "I've done it."

Alphonse halted in his tracks.

"Did you just say…"

And that was how Al and Winry became friends. It would be revealed in later years that Winry, young Capitano, had fibbed. It didn't matter. Swinging became all too soon a piece of the past for Alphonse, anyway.

As they matured, and the mutual adoration of Alphonse quickly brought them together, Edward thought around the third grade that he very much loved Winry Rockbell. The tables were turned. He asked her, pressured by his peers, to 'go with him', like all the big kids at the middle school asked their sweethearts. It was a big deal. They lasted until recess, when Edward was told by his first and only girlfriend that 'going with' her entailed letting her win races from the monkey bars to the sandbox. The divorce was amicable enough; the only property debate was over a piece of contraband bubblegum Winry had given Edward earlier that day that he had saved half of to give Al when he got home.

Years later, Winry reflected that she wished her love life was half as simple as Jean Havoc, her latest boyfriend, pulled back from passionate lip-locking with a languid smile. It would be denial to say she didn't think he wasn't in love with her. It would be denial to say she wanted him as much as she pretended.

Winry Rockbell had more in common with Cleopatra than may originally be assumed.

"Enough of that, now; there's a good girl," Havoc said, smiling a little as she pouted down at him, with sugary, sultry lip gloss-covered lips, her legs straddling his hips on a park bench while an old woman in a pink jogging suit _tut-tut­­t_ed at them. "How about we take a breather for a while, eh?"

Winry reluctantly slid from Havoc's lap to sit beside him on the bench and, the image of petulance, crossed her arMs "A breather," she repeated, bemused. "What's the matter, Mr Proud-Chain-Smoker? Getting emphysema?"

"Maybe," Havoc agreed absently, lighting a cigarette. Winry rolled her eyes.

"I guess that doesn't matter much, I'd get as much energy from your corpse, at this point. On the other hand, I would rather like to know what Mr Taciturn here _did_ do with Jean Havoc."

"Calm down, Winry. Maybe I just want to enjoy the day a bit, hm?"

Winry sulked. Her idea of 'enjoying the day' was getting to second base. She gave her boyfriend a blank stare.

"You definitely are distracted," she said. "The question is, by what? Or rather, by _whom_, hm?"

"Smart girl," he said airily. "I never know the difference between 'who' and 'whom'."

Winry declined to admit that she didn't either; she just liked the sound of the latter.

"So, your boy Edward's going to be in the Science Team meet this week, isn't he?" Havoc changed the subject abruptly, dragging on his cigarette. Winry stared ahead, and then, not seeing a way to turn the talk back to herself, said in a huff,

"Yeah. That's what I've heard." Secondhand, in fact, from Alphonse, when she'd come to call the night before, only to find Edward out with his _teacher friend_.

"Are you going to go see him?" Havoc asked, an edge to his voice that Winry couldn't place.

"Probably not," she said slowly.

"Oh, okay," Havoc replied sounding almost… relieved? "I'm going to be there."

"What the hell do you have interest in a Science Team meet for? Especially when your lovely underclassmen girlfriend is going to be hanging around, bored, with nothing to do…"

"Fuery is in the club, and you know how he gets. Can't go to the bathroom himself."

This smelled of an excuse to Winry.

"I wish you'd be honest with me." She sighed.

"Let's not get into melodramatics. What makes you think I'm not going? You can come along if you like. I go every meet. I'm sort of their cheerleader. Besides," Havoc said, staring straight ahead, as was Winry, stubbornly, "even if I wasn't telling the truth, which I am, it's not like I'd be alone in that."

"What on earth are you _talking_ about?" She asked warily.

"You, and the Elric boy." He said simply.

"_Edward_?" Winry asked incredulously, picking up on his meaning instantly. "Havoc… Ed's _gay_."

"Not him," Havoc dismissed, still not looking at Winry. "The other one."

Winry's face became solemn as she murmured, "Alphonse."

"Whatever his name is," Havoc agreed, trying to sound nonchalant.

"I'm not with Alphonse," she said quietly. "And I never will be."

"You don't seem so happy about that." He observed, puffing smoke. Winry looked at him, deliberating.

"Maybe I'm not." She admitted, and Jean snorted. "No, but I'm not going to be with him. I like you. Isn't that good enough?"

"You don't love me."

"It's high school," Winry shrugged. "I don't know who I love."

Havoc was not a cruel enough person to point out that he knew who he loved, and had for years now, and that person most definitely was not Winry.

"You might love this Alphonse kid, then," he said instead.

"I grew up with him; with both of them."

"You don't love them the same way, though. You _want_ that boy."

"Want? No, definitely not. If anything, _he_ wants _me_."

"But you still love him."

"I told you, I'm too young to-,"

"You _might_ love him, then."

"I," Winry started to speak, but closed her mouth. Her face suddenly looked resolute. "You know what? I'll tell you the truth. I might. Well, I might if he weren't hurt."

"You won't date him because he's in a wheelchair?" Havoc asked, raising an eyebrow. "Ouch."

"No, and yes. Alphonse is a delicate boy. Dating him wouldn't be a casual thing. I couldn't break his heart. If I went to him, I'd be his. There would be no turning back. I wouldn't hurt him like that, if something went wrong."

"So you're dating me because you're afraid of a commitment." Havoc stated evenly.

"Don't say it like that. I like you. I like you a lot."

"You don't like me, Winry," Havoc said, seeming, for once, to lose his temper a little. He turned to her, and the sun hit his face, and made his natural reddish highlights glow. "You like fucking around with me."

"If that was true," Winry protested hotly, "why aren't we sleeping together?"

"Because you can't stand having sex with anyone when you know your little admirer won't get any. Ever."

At this they realized mutually that the conversation had been carried too far, and turned away from each other.

"Let's not break up," Winry said quietly after a moment.

"I wasn't planning on it," Havoc replied, before adding wryly, "Though I don't see the good in staying together, if you're in love with somebody else."

"I'm not in love with anyone," Winry sighed. She put her hand on Havoc's, a surprisingly intimate gesture for someone who never cared for any physical affection that wasn't overtly sexual in nature. "I don't even know how you _know_ about him."

Havoc didn't reply, except to say, "Speaking of Elrics. And is that… _Mr Mustang_?"

"Why, so it is," Winry observed curiously, momentarily distracted from the somber atmosphere.

And lo and behold, there were Edward and Mr Mustang, the former licking at a red Popsicle, melting slightly in the unusually warm November afternoon, and the latter holding a textbook of some sort or other and reading steadily aloud as they walked on a pathway, side-by-side.

"Hanging out outside of school. Are they, you know, secretly an 'item', or whatever?"

"I'm going to pretend that I did not just see you use air quotes," Winry told him darkly.

"You're very kind."

"As far as your question goes, so far as I know…" Winry paused here, stunned and unsure how to continue. "The answer is that I do not know one way or the other."

"So what's with the extreme date-like atmosphere?"

"Dunno, but I know how we can find out."

"What do you mean?"

"Come on," Winry said, clutching her boyfriend's hand tighter as she got up and wandered towards the pair. Havoc barely had time to stamp out his cigarette before his girlfriend was giving a bubbly greeting to yet another blonde and his older something-or-other.

---

Edward, for his part, would look back on the moment and decide that is was the snowball that started the avalanche. If Winry simply hadn't meddled, well then…

She wouldn't be Winry.

"Edward!" she greeted gleefully, Jean Havoc attached at the wrist and looking rather embarrassed.

He groaned inwardly, and Roy froze a bit. Really, they'd been having a perfectly lovely outing. Nothing eventful had occurred, but they had nearly finished the physics book and interspersed lessons with clever anecdotes and quick-tongued banter. Trust Winry to bring an abrupt, awkward halt to his momentary bliss.

"Winry," Edward said darkly, "Havoc. Uhm, you guys know R-, er, Mr Mustang, I assume?"

"Of course, we have homeroom together! Hiya, Mr Mustang."

"Hey," Havoc said easily, smiling a little at his girlfriend's antics.

"Hello," Roy said in a clipped voice, and Edward sensed him tense.

"Nice day for a walk, isn't it? For a date, even…" Winry began, and Edward and Havoc both got the overwhelming urge to slap one hand on their respective foreheads and the other over Winry's large mouth.

"Not when you've got a prodigious teen to train, especially if your ulterior motive involves one hundred twenty-five million in cash," Roy replied calmly, looking slyly at Edward, who rolled his eyes. Winry heard the escape, but persevered.

"Oh, you mean you two aren't… you know? You make a lovely picture here on the walk, and I just thought…"

"Winry…" Havoc muttered warningly.

If he were honest with himself, a huge part of Roy wanted to acknowledge everything Winry had just said, if for no other reason than to see Edward's reaction. But he didn't trust talkative Winry, and especially not this Havoc kid, who he'd never seen outside of the Science Team meeting, not to tell someone important, or at least start a rumour that got around to someone important. So, that, of course, left lying under oath.

"Edward and I are most definitely not on a date, Ms Rockbell," Roy said sternly. "We're studying for the meet this week, nothing more."

Edward, who had of course been expecting denial, had not anticipated the barely-hidden venom in this assertion.

"Oh," Winry said, faltering, "okay. Well, good luck."

"Thank you," Roy drawled, bored with the situation. Havoc and Winry quickly walked away, muttering excuses about plans to see a movie. Roy missed the hurt look Edward hid with a cheery mask. Well, that wasn't completely true. But what could be done about it, really? Roy couldn't deny what he had just said. Firstly, the boy was still underage, and his _student_ besides; second, and more importantly, Roy didn't know for certain that his feelings were reciprocated. It could have just been the general rejection that damaged Edward's feelings, or even just annoyance with Winry.

It was an unfortunate predicament that Roy, so proficient before at reading Edward's emotions, could not excel so well here for the simple matter that he was _afraid_ to.

"Your friends," Roy said steadily once Winry and Havoc were out of earshot, "are obnoxious."

Edward, considering the circumstances, felt he did a very good job of not letting show that he was a little distraught. "I know," he said. "They know, also."

"I guess that's a bit ironic coming from someone who grew up as a surrogate brother to Maes Hughes," Roy mused.

"A little bit, maybe." Edward shrugged with a weak smile. Roy grit his teeth. He hated that he'd hurt Edward's feelings, but there really was nothing he could do, after all…

"You don't seem surprised to know that we're friends?" Roy prompted, trying desperately to move away from the awkward moment.

"He told me," Edward replied tonelessly. Roy's eyebrows shot up.

"Told you? What else did he tell you?" he asked darkly. Edward's cheeks flamed as he remembered the conversation.

_If he theoretically was to start a relationship with a student, that would be his decision, and his business._

If Hughes had just seen the incident that had occurred moments before, would he change his mind about Roy's intentions?

"Just that I should stop being a prat and forgive you." Edward replied. "Not in so many words, of course."

"You sure that's all he said to you?" Roy asked with intensity that startled Ed, who simply nodded, a little taken aback. Roy sighed. "Birds of a feather, Ms Rockbell and Maes. Gossipmongers. Romantics. Socialites."

"And you're not?" Edward felt compelled to point out. "A socialite, that is."

"Maybe," Roy admitted. "But at the very least I don't _live_ for that banal nonsense."

"You don't?" Edward replied, deadpan. Roy gave him a wry grin and closed the book.

"You can't just let me have one minute of superiority, eh?"

"You certainly don't need any more time to dwell on your ego, as a matter of fact."

"I guess that's true. Still, it isn't as easy as you make it out to be, is it?"

"What isn't?"

"Being outgoing. I'm not as pretentious as I seem, you know. As hard as that may be to imagine." He gave a small grin here, also, before turning his face to a clear blue sky.

"I know you aren't," Edward faltered, blinking.

"People just don't seem to understand. Understand people like us, I mean." He continued, without looking back at Ed.

"No," Edward agreed solemnly, somehow instinctively knowing what Roy was talking about. "No, they don't."

"Doesn't matter much. Just means the rest of us have to stick together, eh?"

_Mr Mustang has _definitely_ got more on his mind than friendship with you._

"Yes," Edward murmured, pushing Winry's unbidden quote from his head.

Wordlessly, they continued down the walk.

---

Of course, by the time Edward got home that night, he had thoroughly convinced himself that what had happened with Roy's conflict with Winry was more than just a fluke. Edward, being Edward, was in fact rather insistent with himself that his attractions were farfetched and would be his ultimate undoing.

"Brother, you aren't eating," Alphonse observed with his characteristic worried glance.

"I'm sorry, Al. I ate out with R- Mr Mustang today." This wasn't a lie, even if Popsicles weren't really all that substantial.

"Brother, the only time you don't eat is when you're upset about something. Is it Mr Mustang? Has he changed his mind about… About us living here?"

Edward hadn't told his younger brother everything that had occurred between himself and the Algebra teacher, but had felt that Al deserved to know who's hands his own future lied within. Al had been properly convinced that Mustang would not relate the secret, but Edward knew his younger brother still had a tendency to worry, which consequently vexed him. Ed frowned inwardly about something along the lines of overly intuitive younger brothers, and glared at his bowl. Beef stew. His favorite, made by Pinako and brought over by Winry yesterday while Edward was gone. Roy would probably be a little annoyed with him if he knew that little factoid.

"No, Al. Nothing like that. I'm just stressing over my fucking Driver's Ed quiz tomorrow. I have no idea what the hell is on it; I fell asleep in class."

Al looked concerned.

"You don't have to talk about whatever it is that's really bothering you," he said slowly, "but please don't lie to me, either."

Edward gave a hollow laugh.

"I'm not lying, well I guess not completely. I really am nervous about that test," Edward bit his lip here, he hadn't thought about the quiz in a few days, having been rather _preoccupied_, but it was suddenly a very real antagonist. "But I don't want to talk about, I mean, you understand. It'd be like me talking to you about Winry," Edward said awkwardly.

"But, we _do_ talk about Winry." Alphonse said, struggling.

"Like she's our sister. Not about, well, you know," Edward made a vague wave of his hand that was supposed to indicate in some primal language that Alphonse had something more than platonic feelings for the blonde girl.

"Er, right." Alphonse agreed. "But does that mean, you and the teacher are…?"

"What?" Ed asked, startled. He replayed the conversation and winced at the parallel he'd made between Al's feelings for Winry and his daydreams about Roy. "No, well, I don't know. What am I saying? No, no, definitely not."

"You don't seem so sure." Alphonse observed with raised eyebrows.

"Of course I am," Edward replied, almost more to himself than to his brother. "Al, he's nine years older than me, a legend back at his school of choice, and could have anyone his own age he preferred. I, on the other hand, am impetuous, antisocial, and sort of a little too busy taking care of my little brother to worry with my own personal life."

"Oh," Alphonse said quietly, playing with his food a little. Edward would have apologized, had he been paying attention. However, it suddenly occurred to him that everything he had just said… was completely true.

He cleaned up and returned to his room, barely hearing the goodnights he and his brother exchanged. Lying in his bed, staring at the ceiling, he could only think to himself what a fool he'd been. To let himself get carried away with his crush, thinking there could be possible reciprocation.

The imagination he could have sometimes.

---

The next day, Edward sat through Algebra, smiling dully whenever he met his teacher's eye throughout the lecture. He watched pale hands move, punctuating that a third degree equation can have up to two curves in it's graph, and a fourth degree three, and so on; watched perfectly-shaped lips describe with irritation a simple slide-and-divide method problem once again in depth, slowly, clearly, for a dunce who still hadn't grasped the concept; listened to the rising and falling tones of his voice as he replied to certain comments with unadulterated sardonic humor. In his stance he was energetic and eager, but Edward read Roy's eyes to be dissatisfied and bored. The only moments those dark orbs brightened were when they met Edward's form. Ed wanted to take this as a sign to take hope from; not all was lost to conventional standards and taboos. He knew though, in his heart of hearts, that a few cheerful glances did not warrant the belief in a romance that was doomed to disappoint him. He sighed, and after a while stopped looking up at the object of his thoughts altogether. It was too painful to see and let himself consider, and then have to convince himself no all over again.

"You're looking pretty down." Roy observed with a gentle frown once the other students had left after class, resting a concerned hand on the boy's shoulder. "Anything wrong?"

"Not really," Ed lied.

"Hm. Maybe you'll feel like telling me after school, then?" Roy asked.

"I- I won't be there. Sorry. Al needs me at home tonight."

"Oh. Alright," the raven-haired man replied. For a moment he looked as though he would like to say something else, but Edward cut him off, standing up from his desk and moving towards the door.

"Can't be here tomorrow, either. Maybe Wednesday. I'm not certain."

"Wednesday is the weekly meeting," Roy said in perfect monotone.

"Oh, it is, isn't it?" Edward replied nervously. "I should probably try to make that then, shouldn't I?"

"Ed," Roy said seriously, "what the hell is going on here that you aren't telling me?"

"Nothing. I'm fine." Edward lied again. "I have to help Al with some homework. And I'm a little concerned about your best friend failing me on a quiz I haven't studied for. I can't stand Driver's Education."

"My best friend isn't a teacher. And I thought he trusted me, hm? What's wrong, Edward?"

Edward deflated here. Best friend. But never anything more.

"Just leave it, Roy," he finally said before leaving the room, leaving Roy to stare darkly after him.

---

When Roy attempted again to talk to Edward the next day after class, he found the boy just as closed and reticent as the day before. And so the behaviour continued. Edward hid and Roy persevered, determined to find out what was ailing the blonde, all for naught. Both lie awake each night, musing over the predicament: Edward in bitter resignation, Roy in mad bewilderment. What was going _on_ with him, anyway?/How long could he hold out before Roy would give up?/It couldn't possibly have anything to do with what he has said to Winry, could it?/He couldn't be just friends, he just couldn't. It was better this way./No, Ed would have said the same thing. It was the only logical thing to do, after all./He didn't want to make his friend deal with the feelings he'd always have for him. It may annoy him for the time being, but it was better than getting attached and then having to redo the damage when the truth came out./But logical didn't always apply to Edward, did it?/Why did this have to happen to him? Finally finding someone he'd like to love not as a family member, just to realize that friendship was the only thing he could conceivably have, anyway…/Maybe he should just apologize, even if he wasn't certain what he was apologizing for…

The night passed, both eventually falling into a restless sleep with erratic dreams of monsters with circular tattoos and gunfire, until the five o'clock buzzer rang on Thursday morning. Thursday, the day of Edward's first Science Team competition, bright and early. Excused from school all day for the final game of the season, away at Youswell High. The day that both would remember as both a catalyst and inhibitor for the inevitable.

Roy and Riza greeted each other in the dark of morning.

"I don't understand why we have to be here so early."

"To get there on time," Riza replied in her usual sarcasm-averting manner.

"I know, I just mean…never mind. When do we leave?" He glanced over her shoulder beadily at Edward, who was yawning and discreetly looking at Roy as well. As soon as they made eye contact, Edward looked away and laughed a little too loudly at something Fuery said.

"Hold on a moment, please. There's still the matter of who drives, and who takes the bus with the kids."

"What are you talking about?"

"One of us has to take the bus to chaperone the teenagers so they won't annoy the driver. One of us has to drive so we can take a kid home in case of emergency."

One of the girls who Roy had seen at the meeting last week shoved another one and they both pointed at a third, laughing loudly.

"And the incentive to ride the bus would be…?"

Riza Hawkeye gave a small smile, showing for the first time a trace amount of humor.

"Not having to pay for gas."

"Right. Well thanks, but authority for authority's sake isn't my cup of tea. I'll drive, if you don't have preference."

"That sounds fine. You know where to go?"

Roy considered. "Vaguely."

"That's reassuring." Riza replied, showing yet another surprising capacity for sarcasm.

"It's okay. I'll follow the bus, watch road signs, calculate the sun's position in the sky, that sort of thing. If worst comes to worst, though it may be a breach of one of my gender's bylaws, I could always, shudder, _ask for directions_."

"Right. Well, It's about time to load. You should probably go ahead and get in your car."

"Alright. Godspeed." With this solemn departure, Roy made his way to his car, thinking about the day in front of him as he went. He hadn't wanted to sit in a tin can filled with teenagers for an hour and a half, but he certainly had ulterior motive in his decision to drive, also. Today, Roy was determined, was the day he'd win over Edward for good. He drove, glancing at a bouquet of white something-or-others he'd picked out at random to mask the solitary red Rosé in the center that was meant for Edward's eyes only.

---

There was a steely gleam in everyone's eye as the final commenced. Four of Youswell's finest against the humble attendants of Amestris High. The competition was set up in the auditorium, with the two teams on rickety folding tables on opposites sides of a performance stage and a podium in the middle for the curator.

The first round flew by. Edward was a spectator in the front row of the theatre's seats, watching the home team getting trampled by the nameless opposition.

"Miss Hawkeye." He whispered finally, unable to bear the torturous slaughter of his school's reputation any longer. "Miss Hawkeye, put me in."

"What?"

"I know this material, Miss Hawkeye."

"You've never even held a buzzer, Elric-,"

"It doesn't matter," he interrupted. "I can win this for you yet. Put me in." It was so cliché, yet Edward knew when he could make a difference. He carefully avoided Roy's penetrating silent gaze as Riza called down one of the girls and Edward took her place. The competition continued.

"The theory that comprises all five variations of String Theory-,"

_Beep_.

Edward grinned. "M-theory."

"That is correct."

---

Roy watched wordlessly as his protégé flew through the answers that he himself had schooled the boy upon. Yet, not a single word had passed between them yet. He watched as the opposition, a girl with brown hair, tanned skin, and pink bangs called Rosé began trembling at the lower lip as her team was decimated by the one-man show that was Edward Elric plus buzzer, Ling, a bewildered boy with obvious Xing ancestry, Scieszka, a nerdy-looking girl whose huge-rimmed glasses magnified her wide eyes, and, most notably, the tall, elegant looking Russell Tringham. From his view from the wing of the stage, Roy could see the astounded, and duly impressed expression on Tringham's countenance. He was also very obviously attracted to Edward, which led Roy to glower in disapproval.

"They meet at five meters after thirteen seconds." Edward declared, and the spectators from Amestris cheered.

"That is correct, with a bonus point for stating the place of intersection, for Amestris City. Which brings us to our final round. The bonus round."

'Wait,' Roy thought. 'No one told me anything about a-,'

"This final category is worth five points per question. It could potentially tie the game, if Youswell answers every question correctly. Of course," the host conceded, "no team in the Amestris County school system has ever accomplished that. Are the teams ready?"

The team captains nodded.

"Our bonus category today will be Scientific History."

There was a collective groan from the Amestris side, but Youswell sat up straighter. Roy himself grit his teeth; he and Edward had never gone anything remotely related to the historical side of their learning.

"First question: The historical science of attempting to transmute metal into gold,"

A smirk adorned Russell Tringham's handsome features.

_Beep._

"Alchemy."

"For Amestris City, five points."

Everyone rounded on Edward, who looked just as surprised at the answer he had supplied as the rest of the team. However, there was no time to dwell; the show must go on.

"Relating to the first question, the mythological substance that would enable this transmutation to take place,"

_Beep._

"Philosopher's Stone."

"Correct, for Amestris City again. Next question, you'll be noticing a theme here: the historical figure who was supposedly able to create a Philosopher's Stone, born around the 1330's and-,"

_Beeeep._

"Nicolas Flamel,"

"Amestris City, five points."

Roy stared at Edward in amazement. He'd certainly never known that Edward was a history buff, but somehow, he doubted the information still. For one part, Edward looked increasingly incredulous at his instantaneous responses, which in any other circumstance may have looked comical. For the other, Roy realized that he knew all these answers also, and had most_ certainly_ never studied about the subject. As the questions continued, all focusing on the subject of alchemy, it soon occurred to Roy that Edward was achieving the impossible: _all the bonus points were going to one team._ Roy clutched the bouquet he'd brought for Edward more tightly in his fist. Edward was truly an amazing boy.

The game ceased. Five points Youswell, sixty-five Amestris City.

At this point, Russell Tringham first approached Edward Elric.

---

"That was a great bit of luck you pulled there, …?"

"Edward. Normally, I'd disagree, but I frankly haven't any idea how I knew any of that bonus round stuff."

"And I'm Russell, Russell Tringham. Well, Edward, apparently osmosis has its benefits, then. You did extremely well, though. Congratulations." Russell Tringham offered the shorter boy his hand.

"Thanks." Edward found he couldn't continue, as the older boy's eyes searched his with what could not be accurately named if not called _hunger_.

"So I was wondering if maybe today's winner would like to get dinner with me this evening."

"I kind of have to get back to Amestris…"

"And if I took a train and met you somewhere? What excuse would you give me then? You're straight?"

"Obviously not, but…"

"You have a boyfriend, then?"

Edward considered. "Well, no…"

"So…?"

Edward faltered. Here was a nice enough seeming, and definitely nice enough _looking_ young man who wanted to take him out to dinner… Why exactly _was_ he holding back?

"It doesn't even have to be a date. Come on. I'd really like to get to know you, Edward."

Edward sighed. He had no excuse to be hesitant, did he? Especially if he was intentionally trying to alienate… No, he wouldn't think about him. Not right now.

"…Okay."

"We won, Ed!" Fuery interjected, bounding up to the blondes in his enthusiasm. "All because of you! You were brilliant! Oh, hi there." He added bashfully to Russell. Russell looked good-naturedly amused.

"Hey, good job, man. You guys deserve it."

"Yes, wonderful work, you all. Amestris' team has always been a bit of a joke, but, you know, I've always thought that you guys were on the verge of being a wonderful group, you just needed to find your muse." Interrupted the pretty girl with pink bangs. "Hi, I'm Rosé," she added.

"Rosé…" Fuery murmured under his breath, only Edward and Russell heard him, and they shared amused glances.

"You forgot to introduce yourself, Fuery," Edward prompted, nudging the brunette.

"Oh, right," he said nervously, looking at Edward instead of meeting the strangers' eyes. "I'm Fuery, like Ed said. Kain Fuery."

"C-c-c-Cain?" Rosé repeated, her eyes filling with tears instantly. Russell slapped a hand over his eyes, and Fuery and Edward shared bewildered glances. Rosé, at this point, blurted an apology and ran like hell in the opposite direction. Fuery made a step in her direction after her, but realizing he didn't even _know_ the girl, stopped and dropped his hands to his sides in a dramatic display of defeat. It was Edward who asked the obvious question.

"What…The hell…Was that?"

"Sorry. It's just, Rosé had a bad relationship a few months ago. Guy's name was Cain, and he beat the hell out of Rosé, but she kept coming back to him. And finally her parents found out and pressed charges, and he got locked up. She's still hung up on him, though. It's a shame, really. She was just starting to get back to normal…"

"Then it's all my fault?" Fuery asked plaintively, and Edward was struck with pity.

"No, man. You couldn't have known. Don't mind her. Listen, why don't you go make sure she's okay. Yes, you. She'll appreciate the gesture, I think." Russell suggested.

Fuery blinked, stupefied, but nodded with sudden determination. He'd go after Rosé, and make her see him as something other than a reincarnation of an old ghost.

---

Riza Hawkeye watched her hormonal charges with an impassive air. The girls chattered and giggled, the boys got into conversation with the rival team, and a member of the opposition ran away sobbing.

"Ah, youth," someone sighed wistfully from behind her, and she turned to see the taller form of Jean Havoc grinning mischievously at her, the odor of smoke and a bit of cologne detectable at their close interval. Not the most enticing scent, but by no means an unfriendly one, either.

"Funny, especially considering you are at most a year older than most of these kids." She replied as steadily as she could. Jean Havoc had really grown up in the last four years she'd known him. When he was a freshman and came into her Biology class, she remembered him as a gawky little punk with gel spikes in the front of his hair and an obsession with a single navy and white striped polo he wore about twice every week. His shoulders had filled out and he was not massive, but a tall young man with rural good looks and an easy grin. Frankly, if he hadn't been her student, Riza Hawkeye would have been interested. Very interested.

"A joke, Riza. I know you aren't half so impervious to them as you like to pretend. You've even cracked a few in your day, so I hear," He replied with a smile.

"That's Ms Hawkeye, Jean," Riza replied, trying to keep her voice light.

"Ms Hawkeye, then," Havoc repeated in such an accurate imitation of her voice that Hawkeye found herself somewhat amused.

"What are you doing here? Don't you have school?"

Havoc shrugged. "I skipped."

Hawkeye raised blonde eyebrows. "Are you sure you want to be telling that so easily to a teacher?"

"I don't have any classes with you," he countered with sudden intensity that put double meaning and gravity upon the conversation.

"Jean," she began.

"Havoc," He corrected automatically.

"_Jean_," she insisted again, "I like your name."

"Fine, but only you can call me that," he replied petulantly, and Hawkeye found herself smiling.

"I'm glad you came today," she said quietly, before locking her gaze with his. "But you can't do that anymore. Never again."

"I should think not. That was the last game of the season."

"You know what I mean."

A pause, and a sigh. Jean Havoc steps a bit closer to the shorter teacher.

"Why do you fight me so hard, Riza?"

"Why can't you just let it go, Jean?"

"I'm eighteen," he said snappishly. "I can do whatever the hell I want."

"We've talked about this," Riza replied a little louder, and he backed away, taking the hint. "Besides…"

"Yes?"

"You have a girlfriend."

"Oh, come _on_, Ri-,"

"Ms Hawkeye."

"_Ms Hawkeye_," he hissed, seeming to lose his composure for once. "Congratulations on winning the match. That's all I wanted to say, anyway." Then, as he turned to leave, he tossed back over his shoulder, "You can't keep me away forever."

Riza Hawkeye pursed her lips and muttered, mostly to herself, as she turned around and organized something in her purse to take her attention off the moment, "That's what you think, Havoc."

---

Kain Fuery, world's most awkwardly loveable geek, approaches devastatingly beautiful girlgeek Rosé in the Senior Courtyard of the Youswell High campus. Watch him, as he hesitantly moves to her side.

"Miss Rosé," he says shyly, sitting next to her on a flowerbed's stone wall where she cries into her hands.

There is no verbal response. Rosé is like a child, and throws her teary face into Fuery's startled form. He has never held a girl. He doesn't think he's even seen a girl _cry_ before, besides maybe his sisters.

And yet somehow, after overcoming his initial shock, Fuery knows exactly where to place his hands, and how to gently stroke the girl's hair as she soaks his chest with tears of mourning and desperation. In a few minutes, she will sit up and thank him, apologize, and explain the story in depth for Fuery. She will explain it is not his fault. She will tell him that she doesn't know why, but she feels comfortable telling him all of this. Like she's been waiting to meet him a very, very long time, but something has until then kept them apart. For now, however, Fuery is content to offer silent solace to her, and settle into his new role as protector.

---

"Come on. I'd really like to get to know you, Edward."

"Okay."

Roy heard this exchange, about ten feet away behind a curtain while Edward and Russell spoke onstage.

"Goddamnit," Roy hissed, angry at suddenly everything in the world. Stupid kid, leading him on only to stop giving him the time of day… Stupid self, for getting involved with the kid to begin with… Stupid punk nothing, moving on _his_ love interest…

"Goddamnit!" He raged, unnoticed by anyone, and violently stormed away, unceremoniously throwing the bouquet in a trashcan as he went.

---

_It doesn't even have to be a date._

Those were the frail words that kept Edward Elric from going into full hysterics, even if he knew they were a completely empty pretense. For all intents and purposes, Edward and Russell _were_ going on a date, and Edward, never having gone through the stress of A) Estranging the man he loved, B) Meeting a handsome boy who was extremely attracted to himself, C) Feeling torn between loyalty for his feelings that would forever remain unreciprocated and his companionship with this new acquaintance, Edward felt it was time to enlist the assistance of a higher authority on the matters of the heart.

"So I don't even like him, why am I doing this, again? How is this one?"

"You obviously like him at least a little; you couldn't stop describing his height and cute hair. Are you sure you want to wear a t-shirt? To a _club_?"

"I did _not_ call his hair 'cute', Winry Rockbell. Why, what's wrong with it?"

"Well, for one, it's a club, not chess at your grandmother's, and for another, I'm fairly certain you pulled it out of the clothes hamper."

"It doesn't smell. There aren't any stains."

"Oy, vey." Winry replied, dropping her head heavily into her hands, lifting it only to say, "And no, you didn't call him cute, you in fact used a word I can't remember, or likely pronounce. Did you eat a whole effing dictionary for breakfast?"

"A word you can't understand, what else is new?" Winry stuck her tongue out at him. "Okay, alright. If I can't wear this, you stop sitting around and help."

"This is so cliché."

"I don't care. He will be here in three hours. Hurry."

"Okay, okay." She opened his closet and scanned its contents summarily. "Edward, my love. What a nun."

"What?"

"You have _nothing_ in here that doesn't go to at least your elbows."

"…And?"

"For a _club_? You're getting in underage to a club, because your boyfriend has connections with the bodyguard. This is devious to an extent which not even _I_ have managed."

"Not for lack of trying, I'll bet."

"Quiet, you."

"Well, what about my truck t-shirt? You're always saying that looks good enough on me."

"Edward. You are obviously not getting the point here. What I'm saying is that you can't wear something an innocent teenage nobody would wear if your activities will most likely entail risqué situations an innocent teenage nobody wouldn't ever attempt."

"My god, it's like you're talking and all I'm hearing is-,"

"Okay, if I ever had any doubts you were gay before,"

"Flamboyancy points plus five. Gotcha."

"Okay. We're going to fix this."

"Fix what?"

"Your wardrobe."

"How?"

Winry blinked. "I will revise. _I_ am going to fix this. You, go take a shower. Do something clever with your hair."

"Like what?"

"I don't know. Put it up however and if it sucks I'll redo it."

"Mesmeric."

"What?"

"The word I used."

"What about it?"

"I don't know, I just thought I'd see if I could use it to throw your brain into overload so I could have an excuse to not have to go tonight."

Edward had to dodge an article of clothing as he exited to his bathroom.

When he came back out, all he could do was stare at his bed with an eyebrow raised.

"Winry, I'm homosexual, not a transvestite." Winry looked torn between amusement, exasperation, and being mildly affronted.

"These are still your jeans," she pointed out.

"And the shirt?"

"It's mine, and it's sleeveless, and it would be completely eccentric in day-to-day wear, but that's sort of the point."

"It has a purple fairy on it. Do my senses detect a bad pun of sorts?"

"Read into it only as far as you would like."

"And the belt?"

"Mine, also. It will still fit you. You're slender as hell." There was a trace of envy in Winry's voice as she said it.

"I like it, actually. I may keep it."

"Flamboyancy points, plus twenty."

"Right. And the necklace… Winry, don't you think that's pushing things?" Edward asked seriously.

"No."

Edward had to admit, he rather agreed with Winry on this point. The necklace was incredibly girly, a velvet choker with a dangling violet crystal in the shape of a star that scattered the light brilliantly.

"It's pretty," he said quietly.

"Like you." Winry smiled. "Don't be so nervous. You'll have a great time."

Edward paused.

"That's what I'm nervous about."

---

The music in the club was bewitching, and Edward, who had positively no rhythm for dance whatsoever, found himself in an uncompromising situation.

"I'm going to make a fool of myself," he told his date, who was dressed in similar garb, if less feminine and more leather.

"This is not encouraging to hear, ten minutes into the night."

"I'm serious, I can't dance." Edward said nervously, his eyes shifting around the black-lighted room.

"I think you're lying to me. Come on, we'll eat first, anyway."

"Okay." Edward agreed compliantly.

"They actually have decent food here. It's just a restaurant during the day, and they have tables all over the dance floor."

"That's cool. So how can you get into this place?"

"I work here part time. They think I'm eighteen. They give me the courtesy to not question whom I'm with."

"Oh. That's… cool."

"Sure is. Hey, Ramona."

A girl with her hair put into a Marie Antoinette wig and wearing a vinyl dress came and gave them menus.

"Hey, babe. Who's yer boy toy?"

"That's Edward. Pretty, isn't he?"

Edward blushed and focused on his menu. It was a mish-mash of cuisines, a little of everything, which seemed particularly dodgy to Edward.

"They have really excellent burgers here," Russell advised, noticing his occupation.

"Oh, thanks, but I don't eat meat," Edward replied without thinking. Wait, what?

"Oh, hey, that's cool. I've never tried their veggie burger, but I hear that's good, also."

Edward was barely paying attention. "Okay, that sounds good," he said absently.

"Are you alright? You seem distracted."

"So that's one veggie burger and one bacon cheeseburger as per the usual, I assume?"

"Yes, yes," Russell replied, waving Ramona away. "Come on, let's dance while we're waiting for the food to get here."

"But, you said we'd wait until after we ate…"

"I lied. Come, come! No time like the present!" And with this Russell pulled Edward up and led him to the dance floor. The music pulsed in a techno dance track, and people bounced chaotically.

"You don't have to be good," Russell advised. "You just have to be moving."

---

"I told you you'd enjoy it as soon as you let yourself go," Russell chuckled.

"I don't know that I enjoyed it so much as every sleazy horny bastard in that place did."

"Very true. I mean, being offered forty-two dollars for a lap dance definitely isn't bad for a beginner. Not as alluring as, oh, say, _me_, but you're working your way up there, kid."

Edward felt a pang as this little cocky retaliation struck a chord of resonance.

"I think I may call you tomorrow," Russell continued.

"And what will you say?"

"I will probably ask you out to dinner again. What will _you_ say?"

"I will probably say… yes."

"Good. I look forward to asking you then. Is it too early on to ask for a kiss?"

Edward panicked. "Yes," he said quickly.

"Hey, that's fine. We'll work our way up to it. 'Night, Edward." Always Edward. Never Ed. This boy didn't really know him. Didn't know him at all.

"'Night, Russell." But then, maybe that wasn't such a bad thing.

Edward turned and went inside his house, and leaned heavily on the door.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

The first tear trickled down, unnoticed, but its brother was hot and Edward tasted the salt.

Breathe in.

_Oh god, Roy._

Edward collapsed in the dark foyer in an empty home.

Russell was most certainly not Roy.

But he would have to do.

---

By Friday, Roy had calmed. The initial "mother-fucking-short-kids-with-their-goddamned-gorgeousness-and-perfection-and-oh-my-god-what-the-hell-kind-of-name-is-Russell-anyway-it's-just-a-bad-pun-that-we-both-start-with-the-same-letter-and-goddamn-it-I-need-a-cola" rant was over and he had moved on to revising his hypothesis. Maybe Edward wasn't even going out on a date with this guy. Maybe he wasn't interested in Russell at all. Or maybe he was, and he realized last night at their dinner date that he was really in love with Roy and…

Roy focused on these thoughts. They were what put him to sleep that night. They were what got him up the next morning. They were what drove him to not skip school. They were what motivated Roy to seek out Edward before classes started early on that Friday morning, and they were what prompted him to take the shortcut to the front of the school, where he was fairly certain Edward would be with his friends, through the band hallway. It was a soft melody that interrupted these thoughts for the first time in hours…a melody from the band room. It haunted, and yet swelled everything in its presence with meaning. Roy stopped dead in his tracks. He had to see who was behind this…

Edward sat in a blue plastic chair labeled ACPS with a violin perched on his shoulder, moving his rod slowly over the strings. One chord, another, and Roy stood breathless.

"_Trisha's Waltz_, Second Movement, as arranged for violin solo by Tim Marcoh." Edward said through the last lingering note, startling Roy, who hadn't been aware Edward had noticed Roy's presence.

"Written," Edward continued, monotone, "by Hoenheim Elric."

"Your father?" Roy asked.

"Yes," Edward said, lowering his instrument. "He wrote that for my mother, years before I was born. While he was still in love with her. I'm told sometimes that they were very much taken with each other; that she seemed to have some sort of power over Elric," Roy flinched at the way Edward used his father's surname as though impersonally referring to a figure of historical context. "But it didn't really last, especially after she had a few miscarriages. Finally Al and I were born, but it was too late. The appeal had been lost. You see, my mother was very young when she and my father married. A lot younger than him. Nearly a decade younger."

Roy grimaced.

"It's a very beautiful piece. She must've been a very beautiful woman."

"She was, I guess. I always just saw her as my mom. Supposedly she was attractive, though. Even after Hoenheim left her, for lack of a better word. Attractive enough to earn a dozen or so more suitors, anyway."

"But she never remarried."

"No. She always was in love with the first man who showed interest in her, the father of her children."

Roy blinked. Their conversation had been spoken with underlying parallels; did this one apply, also?

"I met a boy at the competition Thursday. Named Russell, Russell Tringham. We went out to dinner last night."

Roy did not know how to respond to this, so he simply waited for Edward to expand.

"It was alright. We danced some. And…" Edward broke off, biting his lip. Abruptly tears filled his eyes. Roy stared.

"And?" He prompted finally, when Edward seemed in danger of recovering conversation by himself.

"And," Ed persevered bravely, "I think we're dating now."

"Oh." Roy said, his heart sinking into the lowest place it had been thus far. Final stage of grief: Acceptance. "Oh."

"I'll see you in class…" Edward began, standing and putting his violin away. "Mr Mustang."

He left Roy to stand alone, dumbfounded and utterly hopeless.

---

A/N: 9,200 WORDS LYKWOAHS! I hope you liked the chapter! Everyone give a hand to my lovely new beta, Kiba's Mewse! I know it ended on a sad note, but PLEASE don't get discouraged with me! Some non-Roy/Ed centric drama to thicken the plot for yeh, there. I've had a lot of this chapter worked into my head since the very conception of this story, and it's bizarre to see it in print form instead of obscure and vaguely formed ideas that I replay in my head. Ohfck. I just realized that my one-year anniversary on this story was a few weeks ago. It definitely doesn't seem like it…

Daydreamishly,  
TVG.


	9. There is no pretense and you're crying

Author's Note: Haha. This story is officially my most reviewed, with one-hundred and nine reviews in only eight chapters. It's a meager count as opposed to some stories, but hey. It's a landmark for me. Okay, what else? Ah, yes. In three days from the point of this author's not it will have been officially a full month since I updated this story, and yes, I'm JUST NOW starting on the next chapter. Sorry, I'm a busy girl. I'll work on getting this next one out, though. Yes. And, just as a side note, if everyone who had this on their alerts reviewed this time around, it'd have a total of one hundred ninety-five reviews. No, it's changed since I wrote that. Now it's more. HINT. HINT. …Yesh. So, that's all. Here you go.

P.S.: You're excited for this chapter. No, trust me, you _are_. Therefore you are going to leave me 23490845983409856 reviews, plzkthnx. Yus! Oh, and no, as some of you are bound to wonder, this is not the last chapter. It's just ending on a happy note, for once.

Damaged People.

OR

**Each Occupation has its Hazards, and You Happen to Be Mine.**

Chapter Eight. You Are the One, You'll Never Be Alone Again.

Roy could've responded to the news that his beloved hand been taken from beneath his nose in many ways. He could've been angry, and exacted bitter sardonic revenge upon Edward. He could have been mournful, and purchased and thereafter consumed ungainly amounts of quadruple chocolate death fudge ripple chocolate chip syrup heaven ice cream and listened to mournful pop ballads as he watched classic romance tragedies on the television. He could have sought to purge the thought from his head by throwing himself into dozens of meaningless tawdry romances to attempt to eradicate the pain he knew was, to a degree, inevitable.

All of these seemed like viable options, but none seemed very fitting for the classroom, where Roy was due in a matter of minutes.

Today's lesson involved reviewing for a monumental upcoming test that could potentially make or break his students' algebra career. So he focused on that, and more effective methods of communicating the process of locating the possible roots of an exponential polynomial, instead of thinking about Edward Elric.

This mindset was surprisingly effective until his homeroom adjourned and his first period class was once again within his sole authority for the hour.

"Good morning," he began resolutely, carefully not glancing to the back-left corner of the room, carefully not reflecting upon the way Ed had entered his classroom: stiff, shoulders slightly hunched, not even making eye contact to acknowledge Roy's existence.

"We have," he continued, "T-minus seventy-two hours until your second grading period exam. And I think many of you will quite agree, you are not ready for this test. Ergo, I am, purely out of the _kindness_ of my soul, staying late after school for a free tutoring session. Come or do not come, it's no weight on my conscience. But I strongly suggest to _anyone_,"

Here he accidentally met Edward's eyes. Yes, you've been uninvited to after school study sessions. Yes, I'm complying with your wishes and no longer fighting to save our friendship. So stop looking at me with those ill-used puppy eyes, will you?

He could not say any of that, though, so he harshly looked away and persisted, "-Anyone who needs help, cancel your dates and get a ride home organized, because today may be your last chance.

"I created these work- these worksheets as a sort of diagnostic device. There will be no grade given, this is simply for you to recognize how poorly or else wise you are doing in my class.

"I will not baby you and press upon you to see that you complete this worksheet. If anyone so chooses to gossip or listen to his or her music player during today's class rather than work on the problems, it's his or her own choice. And before you ask," he added, seeing a raised hand, "No, no extra credit will be given." The hand fell reluctantly.

"We have over an hour left; plenty of time to complete the paper. Turn this into the box when you complete it, so when you come after school we know where to work."

The impromptu speech Roy felt to be very threatening, but he overestimated his students' reasoning capabilities. All but one coagulated into chattering groups, and all but one completely ignore the "assignment". Hence, the next hour was on from Roy's personal fifth circle of Hell. The moments he'd expected to be filled instructing and guiding his charges were now spent analyzing and rehashing his love life, or lack thereof, all with the object of his unrequited feelings not ten feet away.

How the hell had any of this happened, anyway? It seemed like yesterday he'd been traversing the halls of Crimson U, being called out to at every corner and worshiped like a demigod. Hadn't it been just yesterday that he was renowned for being the would-be love interests for _both_ the star basketball player Eric Greed and the youngest, hottest teacher on campus, Miss Laura Sloth? When his old, flawed life- his father- his dead mother- his married best friends- were universes apart, and he had begun to make a name for himself in the peaks of society.

And as he considered the woes of his abrupt downfall, Roy drowned a bit more.

He wasn't sure what triggered it, or why it mattered so much. But the instant the bell rang and one boy, one certain blonde, was the only person to meekly turn in his assignment, not only completed but likely perfect, Roy knew he was through. And that was all it took. Edward whipped around to stare as Roy Mustang all-but ran from the room, throwing his coat over his arms, and went to the office to tell them to call a substitute ASAP; he was a very sick man.

---

Edward was not immune to the illness. The topic of the day was the mysterious rage that had obviously consumed the Algebra teacher all the way to his car, which promptly sped off and ran into a stop sign.

Some reports said that Mustang didn't even get out of his car, but ran over the sign in his haste to get away.

Other said that Roy abandoned his car and attempted to right the red abomination once more, but was reduced to tears when he was incapable of doing so.

Edward wasn't sure which hurt more, the fact that some kids were impertinent enough to create such lies as the second account, or that he could see through it so easily because he knew Roy better than anyone else.

He hoped.

Edward tried desperately to explain the devastation away with anything besides the news he'd bluntly imparted earlier that morning. Which worked to varying degrees, considering Edward's flip-flopping between personal insecurity to overkill conscience. To make everything better, he still wasn't certain whether he more dreaded or looked forward to his boyfriend's call later that night.

---

Winry looks around at the table. Edward, sighing to himself, staring blankly ahead. Breda concentrating upon a chess board. Havoc chewing his nails from the tension of not being able to smoke without being caught. And here comes Fuery, babbling about everything under the sun.

Maybe it's just her, but she sees them, and gets the feeling that though loose strings connect the four of them, they belong to a sort of family that she's stumbled upon by accident. And Winry feels as though Edward may also be in a family with her, but otherwise, she doesn't belong. She knows this is absurd; Edward would never sit with this group without her presence, even with his familiarity with Fuery. But at the same time, Winry has a sudden overpowering sensation that it is she, not he, who is the tag-along friend, and that any connection she has here is a false one, made on modest pretences and quickly dwindling to less. Convenience led her here, a shoulder to lean on because she couldn't face her true feelings. And Winry knows from her parents' example that love built on convenience is never structurally sound.

It is Winry's lot in life to cling to what she knows, though. And right now, she knows her friendship with Alphonse, and her relationship with Havoc, and will remain pointedly ignorant of any threat to either of these staples in her existence.

Winry is not heartless, or naïve. She is simply very, very afraid.

---

Edward, meanwhile, is overcome with queasiness. Roy is gone, in a way he hadn't really truly comprehended when he propounded his new and still-forming bond with one Russell Tringham. Good god, what the _hell_ was wrong with him? Not only had he alienated Roy without giving him proper explanation, but the way he'd finally spelled it out made the situation sound a lot as though he'd preferred Russell's companionship to Roy's, and that that had been the deciding factor. And now Roy was hurt, because his friendship had been revoked so cleanly just because Edward had found himself some smiling blonde with a penchant for flattery. And Edward sighed, knowing he was being selfish by pushing Roy away. What had Roy ever done to him? Absolutely nothing. Absolutely nothing, but make Edward feel emotions he'd never dreamed existed outside romance novels and teenage girls' fantasies.

Edward groaned aloud, making Kain pause mid-narrative to Breda and stare.

"Ed, are you alright?" The brunette asked timidly.

"Yeah, don't pay me any mind," Edward bit off gruffly in return. To avoid his thoughts, he tuned into Fuery's conversation. It was a lot of nonsense, and did very little good to occupy Edward, but he managed to catch something about an upcoming dance, and several somethings about a certain pink-banged teenager with bipolar disorder (Or near enough, the way she burst into tears the other day, Edward snorted to himself.).

Second period had circulated slowly enough; how would Edward deal with a class taught by Roy's best friend?

He shook the thoughts and more determinedly than ever listened to the chatter around him.

A dance, Fuery was saying. Like last night with Russell, he registered absently. But this would be entirely different, he knew. So much less mature and at the same time a thousand times less wild than the fevered pulse of a club floor- this would be a place for young lovers and friends to make lifelong memories, and the music- a key factor it was in Edward's genes to be attuned to in every circumstance- would not be pulsing and hypnotizing but moment-enhancing, and at times set the mood, rather than depend upon the mood of the dancer. There would be slow songs, too. Edward imagined himself asking Russell to the dance, staring over his shoulder and letting himself be swayed… and before he realized what he was doing, the scene in his head had altered to encompass a very different dancing partner, whose shoulder was (much to Edward's chagrin) not within proper distance to be glanced over, and instead his face resting against a broad, hard chest and his arms-

If you haven't predicted the line "the imagination he could have sometimes," you need to catch up.

Edward wanted to scream aloud at the circular motion of his thoughts, the way his head felt weak and it was running on a track, going but never getting anywhere new, it was all trite and cliché and hackneyed and the same goddamned thought he'd had five minutes ago. And he knew then definitively that he'd never escape his feelings, because he was not only friends with Roy, he was in love with him, and goddamn if that meant nothing, because now there was no escaping the mistake he'd made in trying to find a replacement in affection and completely estranging Roy, because there would never be another, and now he was stuck.

The bell finally rang.

Edward silently went to class, feeling every second more nauseous.

---

Roy stared at the old footage on the television on the war documentary his father was watching, seeing a minor city in Ishbal get obliterated by a bomb, and scooped more ice cream into his mouth.

It did little good. It was strawberry. Scar's. Ugh.

"You gonna stop moping anytime soon?" Darrel asked in annoyance, glancing at his son.

"No." Roy replied petulantly.

"Ugh." Roy did not help as his father got up and hobbled off to his room in disgust, but instead reached over and grabbed the remote. There had to be something less depressing on, maybe a murder mystery or something…

---

Edward stared blankly at the television screen, wondering absently what the hell they were watching. Alphonse had put on a foreign film completely in Xingese, no subtitles.

One woman slapped another, and they both laughed excessively at this and began chattering, as off to the side, unnoticed, a monkey painted a brick wall.

"This is pretty stupid." Edward said finally, not looking at Al.

"Do something else, then," was Al's reply. Ed did not move. He _had_ nothing else to do. Truth was, he had pretty much cleared his schedule out so he could go out with Russell later, but he still hadn't gotten the call.

A male joined on screen, breaking the two women apart and lassoing the monkey, whom squealed indignantly. Edward wasn't sure who to pity; the monkey for being lassoed, the man for having such a poor acting career, or himself for having to watch this nonsense.

"What _is_ this, Al?"

"It's a classic comedy by Sho Tin, called _The Masochistic Women meet the Painting Chimpanzee and his Arch Nemesis Jojo the Cowboy_."

"Sounds like a Blockbuster hit," Edward said acerbically.

"It was, in a matter of speaking. Until the Xing government banned it and burnt any play house that listed it, because of it's harsh portrayal of the king as an onion-loving alien-impregnated pervert."

"That's… interesting."

"Read: pointless."

"Basically."

Breaking this monotony was the shrill sound of the telephone.

"Finally," Edward said with more annoyance than relief. "I thought he'd _never_ call…"

Edward took the phone back to his bedroom.

"Edward, hi?" He heard the familiar voice, which made Edward irrationally irritable.

"Russell," he bit out, more curtly than he meant to. If it were Roy that Edward was speaking to, he would have heard the wince in the next words that were uttered, but it was Russell, so he remained blissfully ignorant in his state of agitation.

"Hey, listen. I need to talk to you-,"

"Aren't you already doing that?" Edward snapped, and didn't even feel guilty about it.He heard Russell sigh, further incensing Ed.

"Who told you, then? I don't think Rosé would have, but she's been such a blubbering fool lately she may have burst on your Fuery fellow- I swear Ed, I didn't mean for you to find out this way-,"

"Find out _what_, Russell?" Edward blurted, too bewildered to remember to be angry. There was silence on the line.

"You mean you really don't- why were you angry with me, then?" The guilt Edward hadn't felt earlier surged twice fold presently. Why, indeed? It wasn't as though Russell hadn't done anything to him, either. It wasn't Russell's fault he was a pathetic excuse for a stand in for the only person Edward would ever- but he couldn't think about that now.

"Sorry, I had a bad day. But what were you talking about earlier?"

"I- er," Russell faltered. "Let's go out tonight, okay? I'll tell you then. Okay? Don't worry about dressing up, we'll just go to the park."

Edward frowned. The last time he'd been to the park had been with-

"Okay, in about an hour?" He said instead.

"Sounds good. I'll see you then, Edwa-," Ed clicked the phone off and went to his closet. Nothing to wear. But did he really give a damn, at this point?

"Brother," he heard a small voice from the door, "was that… was that Russell Tringham again?"

"Yes, Al," Edward said absently. "We're going out again tonight. In about an hour,"

If he could have predicted Al's response, he never would have told the younger blonde this. However, his precognitive abilities were not functioning, and he did not foresee Alphonse's explosion.

"Brother, can I ask what the hell is your PROBLEM?" Al had started, voice meek, but quickly began to crescendo. Edward dropped the band t-shirt he held to the light and to inspect for stains and turned around slowly.

"You and the cursing lately," he joked flatly, "Maybe I'm a bad influence, after all."

"Don't avoid the subject, _Brother_." He intoned the name like a threat.

"I don't know what the goddamned subject is to avoid, Alphonse. I have no problem, therefore your allusion is completely ineffective. Maybe, if you're so insistent that _I'm_ the one with the teen angst, instead of bipolar Al who squeaks one second and bullies the next, you should actually explain your latest gripe rather than trying to make me feel sorry for something, so we can get something _accomplished_, hm?" Edward replied in a perfectly steady voice, and had any other words been spoken in that way, they would have been friendly and conversational. There was no hesitance as he lashed Al, hitting several weak spots, through his verbal spar. He was tired, _damn_ tired, of talking and feeling guilty. Al was his brother, his most loved companion in the world, and he had no right to turn on him, after everything they had been through together.

"Don't pull the intellectual superior-to-thou routine, Brother. You may be smarter, but not much, and certainly not wiser. Look at you, getting ready to go on a date with this boy you barely know, and you most certainly don't like. You know what? It sickens me. You talk about Mr Mustang nonstop, and he looks at you like you're wont to go cavorting easily across the surface of a lake at any second, and then one day, you just drop him. You know what you're doing to him? He's probably hurt, wondering why, and mostly what _he_ did wrong, and we both know he never did _anything_ that deserves your rejection, especially considering, hello! You love him? That's what really kills me. If you didn't love Roy, because _everyone_ knows you do, so don't deny it, then I would be _happy_ for you and Russell. But you do, and you're just afraid that you'll get rejected, and you don't want to hurt that badly. You're as bad- no, worse than _Winry_, I swear,"

When Al concluded, he was panting, but looking away. There was a long, pregnant pause.

"Are you done now?" Edward said quietly, and Al could barely repress a shudder at the pure venom seeping into his controlled volume, so he nodded to cover it up.

"Good," he said, pulling off his t-shirt and donning a sky blue polo with "Science Team Member, ACHS" embroidered on his chest in white. "Now, while I'm out, I want you to consider something. Firstly, I'd like you to very much recognize that you have no right to be jealous of me. No, no objections, I didn't interrupt your foul diatribe, so you cannot interrupt my counterargument. Your situation with Winry, besides being none of my business and having nothing to do with me anyway, is completely different from R- Mustang's and mine. Firstly, he is several year older than me, and affiliation with him could get not only him, but us in serious trouble. I would like you to dwell upon the fact that I am giving him up because I don't want our life threatened. Also, in case it hasn't occurred to you, Roy doesn't even have feelings for me. Is it so wrong for me to want to spare him from my friendship if all I could ever see him- if all I could ever want is…

"I'm not arguing. I know your stand point and now you know mine." Edward started towards the doorway, but Al did not move.

"You know, for a second there," Al mused tonelessly, "I thought you were going to actually stop making excuses and be honest with me." Edward didn't bother listening to anymore, but sidestepped the wheelchair and its user and went through the front door, not even remembering a coat in the frigid winter air.

---

"Hey, boys!" a voice called form the doorway of the Elric home about twenty minutes later.

"Hello, Winry." A dispirited Al replied, muting Jojo.

"Where's Edo-kun?" Said blonde asked curiously, dropping her coat unceremoniously on the floor and sipping off her shoes.

"Date." Al replied shortly, and Winry knew not to pursue the subject further.

"I brought ice cream," she offered, holding a grocery bag with obvious condensed moister leaking from it. Had it been anyone else, Al may have rolled his eyes. Instead, they brightened in something close to adoration.

"Thanks, Winry."

"Kind of quiet and desolate around here, isn't it?"

"I guess." Al said, returning to his movie as Winry went to the kitchen to store the ice cream.

"You guys… fought, didn't you?" a cautious voice came from the arch between the living room and the hallway a moment later.

"I…" Don't want to talk about it. Don't want to talk about it. Don't want to feel guilty. Don't want to wonder where Ed is right now. Don't want to wonder if he's right. Don't want to know if I hurt him. Don't want to think I was out of line. "Yes."

"About…?"

"I… It just isn't fair!" Al exploded suddenly. "He's got the intelligence, the looks, the _health_, and now he has his true love or whatever hanging on his every word, and he just _shoves it away_. Just like that! I, do you _know_ how much I'd kill to be loved like Roy loves Ed?" Forgetting now that he was ranting to Winry, who clammed up a bit, but remained silent as Al persevered heedless. "And then he has the nerve to wave it in my face "don't be jealous, it's not the same". Well of course I'm jealous, because it's _exactly_ the same. He's pushing away the person he really cares for for no reason at all. And I'm tired of seeing people treated like…"

"Like you," Winry finished, only so quietly he couldn't hear her. He made no attempt to finish out the thought, though, and Winry sat down on the couch and put her arms around his shoulders.

"Hey, hey, don't worry about Ed and Mr Mustang, okay? They'll work out, you know they will. They're perfect together, if only they can see it for themselves." As for us, she thought, it's impossible to say.

"I suppose." Al said stiffly, not really comfortable with human contact since the accident.

"Come on. This isn't any good, dwelling. What are we watching?" Winry shifted surreptitiously so that she merely leaned against Al's arm slightly, her own hands back in her lap. He was very warm, she noticed. Well, his arm, anyway. He sighed heavily.

"You know, I really have not the damndest clue," he admitted.

Winry turned to look at him, to shoot him a glance of something like comfort mingled with mild amusement as well as admonishment, knowing Al only ever cursed when he was terribly upset, wishing he never did at all, because it was so out of character with the sweet, mild-natured boy she'd grown up with, grown to love- when she noticed she was looking at a point just below his shoulder. She had to look up to his face. When had that happened.

"You've grown up a lot, you know," She voiced, and though she'd meant it to come out in a sisterly way, there was more softness to her voice than she had intended.

He looked back at her with brown eyes a little surprised, but not reading as far into the comment as, ironically, she was.

"You're taller than you used to be," she babbled on hurriedly, trying to cover up the slip. "And you're all muscle-y!" It was true. With the work it was to wheel himself aroud, of course Al had rock-hard arms, and presumably the pectoral muscles to match. And abs, as he was known for exercising daily to make up for his lost leg strength…

All in all, though Edward had a very quick, lithe strength about him, Alphonse came off as a conventionally brawny specimen, now that she thought about it.

Which, of course, made her tummy do a couple of somersaults before she had time to remind it harshly that this was _Alphonse_, who picked daisies and cried over goldfish and…

All when he was younger, though, she realized. Which he most certainly wasn't anymore.

"Winry?" Al asked, waving a broad hand in her face. His voice, of course, was all that was manliness and deep. Over the summer, like all boys in his grade, there had been an awkward period of voice cracks and associated pubescent dilemmas, but it had regulated and was, while still his own, at the same time different.

Winry was very out of her element, suddenly, sitting next to not young Alphonse but teenage, less than a year younger, and very handsome Alphonse.

"Nothing," she grinned. "Just thinking of all the pretty girls that must have a crush on you, big boy."

"Ew, Winry," he scrunched his nose, and suddenly she was disillusioned and her young friend was restored.

"I'm serious, Alu-kun." Her grin broadened, and she hopped up, looking down at his disgruntled countenance. "You're just too cute!"

She knew he didn't want her to think he was cute, but she was struggling for every last vestige of normalcy she could find, which outweighed her conscience or her restraint in this situation. Winry was never exactly known for following her head as opposed to her heart, it must be noted. This cannot be anymore her fault than it was Edward's that he had little self-confidence in matters of romance, or that Al occasionally lashed out after withholding his emotions so long. It was the way she was built, and Al sighed, knowing that to hate her for it would never be possible, and not knowing whether this saddened or relieved him more.

"Come on, Al. Ed's out and about, it's time you had some fun too, ne? Let's go to my house. Grandma will make cookies, and we can play card games." She offered her hand, and though Alphonse couldn't use it to get up anymore than he could to cure himself, he grasped it, and accepted, wearing return smile that was mostly natural.

---

Meanwhile, Edward sat on a park bench, a slight snow beginning to drift quietly downwards. If he hadn't been anxious to meet his boyfriend, Ed would be struck with the peaceful serenity of the silent park; if he had remember his coat, he would have hoped that the moments would stretch out before Russell arrived. Edward had a love/hate relationship with snow. On the one hand, all of his worst memories had been sprinkled with the stuff, whether actually present at the time or not. Every birthday, every major argument, the day his father left… The accident… At the same time, it was so dreadfully pretty that Edward could never truly help but want to melt away into the snow and float peacefully, silently like all of those several hundred flakes.

Footsteps interrupted Edward's thoughts, coupled with slight muttering aloud. From a distance Edward saw an advancing figure that he assumed to be Russell's. There was no noise besides those aforementioned coming from the other boy, and Edward found that he was breathing irregularly. On some higher level he also registered that he was very cold, though he didn't think it had much to do with the temperature.

Even from a distance, Edward could tell something was wrong. Russell's strides were not the loping, easy-going bounce Edward had familiarized himself with. No, this was the forced march of a man going to some very unpleasant duty; hurried, harsh, and resolute. The muttering added to the sensation of all being amiss; Edward couldn't hear what Russell was saying, but he had lost his cool over something, and it was this that made him babble aloud as he neared, too quickly to be so terribly slow, Edward's bench. Even his posture was indicative of impending conflict, with hunched shoulders, hands stuffed in the pockets of a tan trench coat, and bereted blonde head staring at the ground as he sped forward.

Edward groaned, realizing he must've annoyed Russell on the phone.

"Hey," he greeted the taller boy as he finally reached the bench. "It's kind of cold, think maybe we should ditch the park idea and grab a cup of coffee somewhere instead?"

"Sure," Russell replied, not at all short, but very distracted. Ed blinked, unnerved. He got up and they walked the path Russell had just come up towards the park entrance in silence before Russell looked at Edward, seeming to truly look at him fro the first time since their reunion.

"You're wearing short sleeves," he said blankly, noticing a slightly bluish hue to Edward's frozen skin.

"I sort of forgot my coat," Edward shrugged, smiling a little. Looking hesitant, but seeming to realize he had no choice, Russell whipped off his own and threw it over Edward's shoulder's. Edward frowned.

"You don't have to do that, Russell. I'm fine."

"Take it, Edward. I've got a heavy sweater, and I'd really prefer it if my b- if you didn't freeze to death on my watch." If Edward found it odd that Russell qualified the statement with 'on my watch,' he didn't say anything, and Russell, before he could notice his blunder, had continued walking.

"Is something wrong, Russell?" Edward asked. Russell glanced at him again without stopping in their brisk stroll, debating on how to answer.

"I'll tell you when we get to… where are we going, again?"

Edward stared. "Coffee shop," he replied.

"Right." And the awkward silence remained. Edward sighed and looked forward again, not really relishing the weight of Russell's coat, nor the weight of the tense atmosphere around them. They were within feet of the entrance when Russell halted in his tracks, grabbing the cloth of the coat's elbow to stop Edward, also.

"Look, I was going to wait to do this, but I don't think I can." Russell said in a rush, a feverish look in his eye. Edward knew what was coming, but still couldn't believe it.

"You're breaking up with me."

"Yes."

There was a silence, and Edward was too shocked to say anything. Finally he came up with the ingenious question, "Why?"

"Because… because." He sighed, and then locked eyes suddenly with Edward. "I've got to admit to you, I'm not certain why mself. I like you a lot. You're really fun to hang around. But I don't… I can tell you have feelings for someone, for one. That's part of it. And another is that I don't think I'm ready for a relationship. I really meant it when I said yesterday wasn't supposed to be a date." Shame coloured Edward's cheeks.

"It ended up being one anyway, is the problem. I like you. But I have to be honest, I can't go out with you because I don't want a boyfriend or a steady relationship. I'm not delusional to think myself half as mature as that kind of commitment requires. And I could be wrong, but I don't really peg you as the swinger type. Which I admire, honestly. I wish I could settle, but I just, I can't help it, every time I try, I immediately flirt with other people and aend up getting pissed off, and I can't do that to another person. Not just you. Anyone. I'm not scared, just very, very aware of my own faults."

"Sounds practical," Edward said in complete monotone.

"I guess. You're angry, aren't you." It wasn't a question.

Well, of course he was angry. He'd given up the love of his life for this. He'd ruined his favourite friend's trust for this. He'd gone all out to make sure he was hurting the fewest amount of people possible… and it got him dumped. And the worst part of it was, he had been wrong the entire time. Because if Russell hadn't ended this today, Edward would have continued pretending he was satisfied, letting Russell get attached when really, it was never a question of _if_ they'd last, but how long. Edward would never have stayed with Russell forever. He only had eyes for one man.

"Not at you." Edward replied finally, removing the jacket. Russell was wise enough to just accept it, and not hurt Edward further by insisting he wear it. "So much for my evening."

"Sorry," Russell said miserably, and Edward could tell he meant it.

"It's okay. No, really, it is. You're right. I like someone. I was being an ass, pretending I could ignore that. You should be glad you recognized the problem now before we got too involved."

"Yes, I suppose the paperwork will be a lot shorter without any co-owned property to divvy up," Russell joked, and Edward found himself smiling, and then laughing, and then crying, and then running. It was cold. He needed his damn jacket more than ever.

Yet, when he stopped running, he was not at home at all to retrieve the garment. No, he was somewhere very different indeed.

---

"Go fish," Winry said, and giggled manically when Alphonse did so and groaned.

"Can I have… a seven?" She asked him, and he groaned once more, forking over the card he'd just drawn, the card she'd also been asking for since the beginning of the game.

"How about a nine?"

"Bah!" he said in disgust. Pinako came in carrying a platter of cupcakes. He turned to Pinako with pleading eyes. "Make her stop!"

"Ah, that I could. She has her mother's talent for gambling, that one. Do you know how much money I've been swindled out of by this con?"

Winry proceeded to give another maniacal laugh.

"You guys flatter me," she said wickedly. "Oh look, I think I just won!"

"Your glee exhausts me, Winry." Pinako answered, sighing and placing a hand on her back.

"Then go to bed, old woman! I won't be done kicking ass until far into the night!" Winry crowed, and Alphonse rolled his eyes.

"Alright, alright. Mind your language, though, and mind the noise. Do you need anything, Alphonse?"

"No, I'm fine. Is it alright if I stay over tonight?"

"Of course. You don't want to call and tell Ed, though?"

"I'm sure he doesn't-," Al began, but Winry cut him off saying,

"They're fighting."

"Oh, that won't do at all. No avoiding your brother in my house, Elric!"

"Oh, c'mon, Gramma." Winry interceded guiltily, realizing spilling the beans was a mistake. "Just give them a night to cool down. You know how these boys are. If we throw them back together they'll just end up beating each other to bleeding nubs."

Pinako considered. "You're probably right about that," she said at last. "Okay, Alphonse, you can stay the night, but you're going home first thing in the morning, right?"

"Of course, ma'am!" Al said gratefully.

"Good night, you two." She said before climbing the stairs to her bedroom and closing the door.

And again, they were alone.

Winry grinned ostentatiously. "So, want another round, or are you tired of losing yet?"

"Let's play something else," Al replied evasively, and Winry cackled, springing from her place on the floor to gather the cards, put a rubber band around them, and disappear into her room to retrieve some other torturous entertainment. Al sighed, content. He loved spending time with her, even if it was only friendly and platonic and everything he didn't want out of their relationship.

Winry returned with Parchisi, but instead of resuming her place on the floor, sat beside Alphonse on the flowered sofa.

Alphonse didn't know what made him do it, but one minute Winry was setting up the board and the little pegs, and the next she had leaned back and his arm was around her shoulders.

He expected kind words explaining why he couldn't touch her that way. He expected a slap and anger followed by quiet, tense apologies. He expected any outcome but Winry _letting_ him hold her that way.

They both blushed, but neither moved.

When they finally started, Al found a way to play without removing his arm, and then when he relocated the appendage, he noticed her covertly moving closer so that their knees touched. Not that Alphonse could feel it, but he saw the movement and noticed, after awhile, that she hadn't moved away.

And so the night passed, never any further, but still so much closer than they'd been before.

---

Edward stood in front of Roy's door. Afraid. Very afraid.

That didn't stop him from pounding it like a madman possessed.

He heard cursing, the lock being fumbled with, and then Roy.

He was wearing only flannel plaid pajama bottoms, and carried a carton of ice cream. His eyes carried cumbersome bags, and he needed a shave, possibly a shower.

Edward, on the other hand, was freezing cold, teeth chattering, various colours from the wind and the snow, and determined-looking as hell.

They stood, immobile for a moment, staring at each other.

"Oh, Christ." Roy spat, starting to shut the door in Edward's face. Edward sprung into action, forcing it back open so that it sprung out of Roy's grasp and hit the wall behind it.

"What the hell is you problem?!" Edward yelled viciously.

"What the hell is _my_ problem?! You moron, you dare come to my house, this is MY HOUSE, ELRIC-,"

"I DON'T GIVE A DAMN WHOSE HOUSE IT IS, MUSTANG,"

"YOU SHOULD, BECAUSE THE COPS CERTAINLY WOULD,"

"OH, WHAT, YOU'RE GOING TO CALL THE AUTHORITIES ON ME NOW? WHEN YOU _KNOW_ WHAT WOULD HAPPEN TO AL AND I?!"

"MAYBE I SHOULD!!"

"GO ON, GO ON AND DO IT AND LIVE WITH YOURSELF, I'D LOVE TO SEE YOU TRY."

"OH, THIS IS GREAT, COMING FROM THE BOY WHO _CARELESSLY LEADS PEOPLE WHO REALLY CARE ABOUT THEM ON, ONLY TO ABANDON THEM TO GO HANG OUT WITH SOME BOY-BAND MEMBER WANNABE AND NOT EVEN TRY TO HIDE THAT HE'S REPLACING THE FORMER WITH THE LATTER, _HE CAN LIVE WITH HIMSELF FOR A COMPLETELY HEARTLESS ACT BUT SOMEONE WHO WOULD BE DOING WHAT THE LAWS COMPELLS THEM TO IS JUST A POWER MAD REVENGE-DRIVEN BASTARD, IS THAT IT?"

"I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT THE HELL YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT, YOU LUNATIC!"

"THE HELL YOU DON'T! YOU KNEW ALL ALONG! HOW COULD YOU HAVE NOT? THE _FLOWERS_, ELRIC, THE _FLOWERS_! MY FEELINGS WERE THERE THE WHOLE TIME, AND YOU MANIPULATED THEM, JUST TO TRY AND FEEL MORE POWERFUL WHEN YOU ARE LOSING CONTROL IN YOUR LITTLE ORPHAN LIFE. WELL GUESS WHAT?! I'M DONE, OKAY? DONE! "

They stopped, and glared murderously at each other, panting.

"Why the hell did you come here, anyway?" Roy asked bitterly. Edward looked away, and water droplets began to fill into his eyes.

"Nothing. Nevermind." He said, and turned to go, but Roy grabbed his wrist.

"You're crying," he said, somewhere between mortification and disgust.

"No, I'm not," Edward said stubbornly, pushing tears from his face as he said so.

"You are," this time more softly, but firmly moving Edward's face so he could see it better.

"Well, whatever," was all that Edward could think to reply with.

"Don't whatever me. Ed, what's wrong? Who made you cry? Why are you here?"

Edward had to remind himself to inhale and exhale steadily. This was it. This was his chance.

But before he could construct and fluid declaration of love, Ed burst into tears and was quite incapable of saying much of anything. Roy, wide-eyed and now anything but angry, cradled the younger's head against his well-defined chest.

"Edward, Edward." He crooned. "Ed, what's the matter with you?"

Ed regained his vocal chords at this point.

"What's the matter?" He repeated. "What's the matter? Okay, let's try this. I hurt you this morning through my own selfish acts because I couldn't let myself fall for you because you could never love me back, just got into a huge argument with my brother because insists I'm pushing away the guy I love for someone I don't even care for and then I rush off to meet said boy I supposedly don't care for _dumps me_,"

"Oh, I get it." Roy said, freezing up. "This is a rebound thing. He dumped you, so you come crawling here,"

"Will you shut the fuck up?! I did not come here to grovel, or even apologize! I came here because I just got broken up with, and I wanted my best friend to make me stop hurting!"

This silenced Roy. He looked down at that tearstained face, still pretty as hell, and exhaled, long and hard.

"Here," he said. He still had the ice cream in his hand, he shoved it in Edward's stomach. "Come in."

"Okay." Edward said, stumbling in. Roy noted suddenly how cold Edward looked.

"Come into the kitchen. I'll give you some hot chocolate, and then we'll put you to bed. You've been through enough today, shorty."

Edward growled, but otherwise did not respond to the jibe. He owed Roy, he figured. Let him call him names, if that was the penance he had to pay to get his best friend back.

They were both silent as Roy rummaged around the kitchen, setting the water to boil and finding mugs to spoon chocolate powder into.

"Here," Roy said, not unkindly, when the liquid was ready for consumption. Edward sipped it slowly, letting the warmth seep his insides gradually.

"Thanks." Ed replied.

"What happened?" Roy asked, staring at the shaky blonde.

"With whom? Al or Russell?"

"Yes."

Edward launched into the narratives, firstly Russell's because it was easier to explain, and secondly Alphonse's. He either thought that from their earlier conversation he had no need to edit out anything involving Roy or was too tired to care anyway, and so Roy heard the whole tale, amazed at how much of a part he actually did have in the boys life, without even ever being present.

"So now we aren't speaking. Or, won't be." Edward concluded. He laughed acrimoniously. "I doubt he'd even be home, if I went there right now."

"Good thing you're here, then." Roy said firmly. He stood up and looked away from Edward, and then back again. "Look, it may not be much comfort, but I can tell you right now that your situation with Al will clear up eventually. It always does, at least so far as I have known you, and obviously forever before. So don't worry so much. You live together, he will have to come around eventually. As for Russell, all I can say is I'm sorry. I'm sorry you had to go through that hurt, sorry you felt the need to get involved with him in the first place… But it will eventually stop hurting. I know from experience. As amazing as I may be to the naked eye, even I, too, have suffered a few disappointments in my day…"

Edward laughed, and stood up and walked over to Roy, setting his forehead against the very chest he'd imagined earlier that day… Noting it's similarities, and the difference to what he had imagined, the things he never could have imagined, like Roy's slightly sweaty scent from turn the heat up too high to combat the raging winter outdoors, and the last traces of his cologne from the morning… Edward smiled to himself, despite everything. Here was Roy. He had him back.. He had no idea where they went from here, but at least they were friends again.

"Come on, I can tell you're exhausted." Roy said finally, lifting Edward's head and slipping his own arm around Edward's waist to support his tired weight.

"Where are you taking me?" Edward yawned.

"My room. I'll take the couch tonight."

"'Don't have to," Edward said vaguely, but didn't push it further than that after he got a curt shake of the head that he barely registered in his suddenly worn out mind.

"Alright, here we go." Roy pulled down the corner of his sheets and comforter of his bed, feeling glad he had been in a busy mood when he had first come home, trying to push away thought of Edward and cleaning obsessively, which had brought him to change his bedclothes.

"Mm," Edward said as he slid into bed, and Roy tucked the blanket around him securely. And then Edward said, more soberly than Roy would have presumed possible in his half-conscious state, "Hey, Roy. Thanks for everything. I- I really, thanks. And, you know, I'm sorry."

"Hey, none of that. You know I'd do anything for you."

"Anything?"

"Are you coming on to me?" Roy joked. Edward looked pensive.

"Not exactly. I was kind of wondering, though. You- did you mean it? When you said before you were… done?" he blushed crimson as he asked it, feeling extremely insecure.

Roy had to recall what Ed was referring to before smirking a little. "No. You're still as appealing to my pedophiliac fantasies as ever."

"Oh." Edward said. Then, "Good."

Roy laughed. "Anything else?"

"Kiss me goodnight?" Edward asked prettily, only half-kidding. Roy debated, then leaned forward and pecked Edward's forehead, smoothing the hair away from it sweetly.

"Not 'xactly what I meant," Edward yawned again.

"Yes, well. That's all you're getting from me. Tonight, anyway."

"Okay…" Edward yawned, and then he was asleep. Roy smiled at the peaceful expression that consumed his little… whatever they were now.

"Goodnight, munchkin," Roy laughed to himself as he shut off the lights and the door on his way out.

---

"Sleep well?" Roy asked over a cup of coffee as Edward stretched in the kitchen the next morning. Roy was dressed in a t-shirt and jeans already, and Edward felt embarrassed in yesterday's wrinkly polo and mud-cuffed jeans.

"Extremely." He replied, yawning slightly. It was a little awkward, being in the kitchen with the love of your life not five feet away, knowing he's the love of your life, yet not really doing anything definitive about it.

"Want anything to eat?" Roy asked, interrupting internal Edward's musing. "Besides me?"

"If that was supposed to be smooth, it came out as ew." Edward replied instantly. "But no thanks, anyway. Where are your coffee mugs?"

"I'll get one."

"Or, you could just tell me where they are and you could go back to reading your paper and stop making me feel guilty for making you wait on me hand and foot?" Edward pleaded a little.

"I would, but I'm not certain you're tall enough to reach them," Roy smirked as he opened a cabinet and seized from the lowest, easily accessible shelf- even to Ed- a ceramic mug.

"How would you like it?"

"Just sugar," Edward muttered, trying to ignore his impulse to kill the man who had made that remark quickly and mercilessly.

"Ah, figures you wouldn't want milk," Roy said aloud.

"Excuse me?"

"I'm just saying, is all."

Despite Ed's annoyance, coffee was sipped in very companionable silence, only broken when Roy asked if Edward wanted a ride home, since he hadn't brought a coat.

"And don't give me any nonsense about imposing," said Roy, taking the opportunity of turning his newspaper page to send a stern glance to Edward. "I'm perfectly happy to do it; I wouldn't drive you home all the time if I minded so much."

"Okay," Edward accepted, glad he would get more time with Roy, if only a little bit. "If you're sure."

"I am. Do you want to go now, or-,"

"Not really. At all. I like it here. With you. And I really, really don't want to leave yet." Both of them were caught off guard by Edward's honesty.

"Oh, see now," Roy said softly, putting down the paper and taking Edward's face in his hands from across the corner of the table. "I was all in the mood to tease you all the way home, but then you have to go and say something uncharacteristically sweet like that," and he inched his face unconsciously closer, as did Edward, whose eyes fluttered down impulsively, and

BAM.

"'Morning," Scar greeted indifferently, and the two sprang apart, cursing loudly.

"Goddamnit, Scar, I was thisclose to getting some real action, the first I've had in months, and you had to walk in _then_, of all times?!" Roy moaned in annoyance, and Scar shrugged. Edward was already blushing, but Roy's words washing over him made him practically glow pink.

"Well, we could always try again… Somewhere else," Edward suggested meekly, and Roy smirked.

"Better not." He said. "If we start now, you won't be getting home for a very, very long time. Come on. There's no point in hanging around anymore, I guess, if Scar's going to be a busybody."

---

Edward opened the door to his house grinning like a happy maniac, only to be assaulted. Violently.

"-NEARLY GAVE US A HEART ATTACK, WHEN YOU DIN'T COME HOME-,"

"COUL HAVE ENDED UP VERY, VERY BADLY, FOR BOTH YOU AND AL,"

"HOW COULD YOU HAVE BEEN SO SELFISH, BROTHER, TO STAY OUT WITHOU EVEN CALLING,"

"Hey, guys," Edward replied easily to the shouts and barrages upon his head with various oversized mechanical tools.

"Where have you been all night?!" Winry asked impatiently.

"Roy's." Edward returned with a small, demure smile.

There was a long silence.

It was Pinako who broke the tension.

"Did you get to see him naked?"

Edward grinned. "From the waist up, anyway."

Pinako and Edward high-fived, and Winry squealed, going from angry to ecstatic in twelve milliseconds. Alphonse groaned.

"I don't want to hear this," he said, slapping his hand over his eyes. "I do _not_ want to hear this."

"Don't listen, then!" Winry said. "Wait. Did you guys kiss?!"

"Almost. I think," Edward said, clearly enjoying himself.

"Wait," Pinako raised her hand. "Do you mean to tell me, young man, that you went out that evening to meet another young man, and ended up sleeping overnight in an entirely different young man's home?"

"I do."

"EDWARD, YOU PIMP!" Winry screeched in delight.

"And that's my cue to leave," Alphonse said to no one in particular and wheeled, traumatized, to his room, at the same time as Edward replied, "Er, I'm not certain that terminology is entirely accurate…"

"Well, what happened with Russell, then?"

"Mesmeric hair guy?" Pinako confirmed.

"That's him. Well, you see, it went like this…"

---

Later that day, Alphonse found himself wheeling behind Winry as she skipped happily through the mall.

"Ah, Al. It's such an amazing day, isn't it? It's snowing, there's a dance to look forward to soon, Edo-kun and Mr Mustang are… well, they're whatever and to top it all off, I have money to spend!"

"Very nice, indeed." Al agreed.

"Oh good; Ross's Dresses is having a sale. I thought they would be, so close to the dance. What are you waiting for?"

"Winry, what possible use could I be of in a dress shop?"

"None whatsoever! This isn't for use, this is for fun!" Al frowned as he wheeled after her, reluctantly.

It was an hour of misery. Winry tried on at least seventy dresses, Alphonse was certain, and all looked _amazing_ on her.

"What about the pink one, Al? You think?"

"Winry-,"

"No, no. It's all wrong, I can see that now. Let me try on the blue one."

"Okay, how about…"

"Yes."

Winry jerked her head at Al's sudden firmness.

"Get that dress. That one."

"Well, I mean, it does look pretty nice, I suppose…"

Al shook his head silently. "It does not look… Just, get that."

"You think Havoc will like it?" She asked without really thinking, staring at her reflection in the full-sized mirror. It took Alphonse a minute to formulate a response. What he wanted to say was "Like I give a damn," but what he said instead was,

"Winry, he'd have to be my brother not to be attracted to you in that dress.

---

Havoc sits at home, dragging on a cigarette, watching TV from his bed.

"JEAN!" A voice yells from outside his door. His sister, Clarissa.

"Yes?" He replies boredly.

"You said you'd drive me to Amy's!"

"I never." He replies, wondering absently if he had.

"Did so. Ma!!"

"Clarissa, Amy lives right down the block. Why don't you walk and quit making that damn racket already?!" He hears from his mother's bedroom.

"It's _snowing_, Ma!" But Clarissa leaves. Havoc drags on his cigarette, and changes to a true crime rerun. Oh, if only that were him, with the gun. If only he were out of school and out of this house and he could finally convince Riza…

He stamped out the cigarette and that rain of thought immediately.

"Better call Winry," he mused.

Pinako answered.

"'Afternoon, ma'am." He drawled. "Can I talk to Winry?"

"She's out," the voice returned, somewhat viciously. "With Alphonse."

"Oh. Well, I'll call back later, then." He replied indifferently. And that's how it began.

---

Monday morning, first period.

"'Morning, Edward."

"What are you so happy about?" Edward replied, yawning. Roy felt it an injustice that he even need ask the question.

"Oh come now Edward, how is it that someone so small can be so pessimistic?"

"I will tackle you hard and make sure you cannot breathe for weeks, Mustang," Edward growled.

"Maybe that's what I want, hm?" Roy replied in a voice that made Edward shudder and blush.

"That's definitely not what I meant," he said.

"Sure it wasn't. Better take a seat, bell's about to ring, don't want to be late," Roy chirped, this time so that anyone could hear, because their lowered voices had been catching attention. "And I expect to see you after school, Elric."

Which was how Edward ended up in Roy's classroom after school, suddenly very self-conscious and quiet.

"Something up?" Roy raised an eyebrow as Edward took a seat in the front row rather than his accustomed place by Roy's desk.

"No. Just tired is all," Edward lied.

"Ah, how are we supposed to get any learning if you're already worn out?" Roy queried, shuffling papers he needed to grade.

"Meh," he replied lazily. And then, because he felt he owed to Roy to be honest without holding back finally, "That nonsense with Russell is still getting to me, I guess."

"Oh?" His tone was careful.

"Well, yes. I mean, I obviously never loved him or anything but… still."

"I understand. But hey, at least you can say you don't have any regrets, right? You got it over with."

"Well, I don't know about all of that. I almost wish… I just, I'm kind of old to be walking around without ever having been kissed, is all." Edward blurted. Roy's eyes widened imperceptibly.

"You mean you've never…?"

"No. There never really was anyone to kiss me, was there?" Edward replied shrugging. "And now I'm single all over again. Blah."

"Don't take it to harshly, there's always a chance of someone else having interest."

"Think so, huh?" Edward smiled impishly, and then yawned. "Jesus. I'd love to stay and whatnot today, but I need to go home and catch a nap. You have my number, yes?"

It was in Roy's wallet, as Edward had given it to him on Saturday before being dropped off.

"Yes. Maybe I'll dial it tonight."

"See that you do," Ed replied in a mock-strict tone before grinning and walking out the door.

He didn't notice the car parked on the street outside his house as Edward went in. What he did notice was the note on the door in Alphonse's handwriting, saying he was at Winry's but would be home later. Edward sighed, knowing Alphonse was still angry with him, and tore the note off the door and went inside.

The house was dark, of course. Edward didn't bother with the hallway light, but turned on the overhead in the living room, intent on some TV while he napped.

He almost screamed at the sight of a figure sitting on the edge of the cushion on the couch.

"God-fucking-damn it, Roy!" Edward swore, clutching his chest. "What were you doing in the dark, idiot?!"

In any other situation, Roy would have found the reaction comical, As it was, he was just very stiff and nervous.

It happened in a brief second. First he was standing, muscles contracted, looking nervous, and then a surge of determination possessed him and he seized Edward.

Roy had, incidentally, imagined the first kiss several times. He crashed their lips together, and realized that nothing he'd thought up came close.

Edward opened his mouth and their tongues met furiously, and the groping and embracing was nothing to be ridiculed.

Suddenyl,as soon as it started, it was over.

"I just didn't want some teenage fuck up bastard like that other kid taking your first kiss." Roy blurted. Edward laughed, and they kissed again, more lightly.

"Go home, Roy." Edward said, finally, grinning. "I have no idea what to do with you."

"As you wish," Roy grinned back, clutching the blonde's hand and leaving out the front door. Edward was glad he hadn't resisted; he'd been rather nervous of them going further than they really wanted in the heat of the moment. He sat down finally, dizzy, only to have the phone ring.

"Hello?"

"I'm very aroused and I think I may be angry with you for sending me away." Edward laughed again, and whatever he replied, it was something completely content.

---

A/N: Pwned.


	10. When you're by my side

**Damaged People.**

OR

**Each Occupation has its Hazards, and You Happen to Be Mine.**

_We're damaged people.  
Praying for something,  
That doesn't come from somewhere deep inside us.  
Depraved souls,  
Trusting in the one thing:  
The one thing that this life has not denied us._

Damaged People Part One: Recapitulation.

**THE IMAGINATION HE COULD HAVE SOMETIMES.**

PROLOGUE: In the Quasicanon Verse, Edward and Roy's established relationship comes to a shrieking halt when Roy is murdered. What is a boy to do, but pull a Tsukino Usagi and use his ultimate powers to reincarnate himself and all his friends to a new, all-normal life?

_He is suddenly plunged head-first into reality, and that reality was this: there was no such thing as Equivalent Exchange. He had lost his mother. He had lost his brother's body. He had lost his limbs. And at one time, he may have been able to tell himself that at least he had met Roy from this. But now even he was gone. And he had gained _nothing_.__ And a funny thing happened, then. Edward Elric's hands hit the ground, fingers splayed, and a light emerged from them. Suddenly, Edward Elric had the power to mold the world with his passion, though he didn't know it. Because, curiously enough, the only way Equivalent Exchange applies is if the alchemist believed in it. And though he'd been taught of it's existence all his life, Equivalent Exchange was now as dead to him as love was. The world underwent an abrupt transformation. Alchemy was non-existent. Wars were stopped. The military no longer ran the world. And Edward Elric... was a junior in high school?_

CHAPTER ONE: The first day of Edward Elric's junior year in fantastical AU-land dawns bright and… late, a dismal prelude to a rather dismal day, as well as his first encounter with a certain significant other from his past…

"_Right, as I was saying." The man said, apparently continuing a speech Edward had missed the beginning of. He was tall and rather pale, but not in a sickly way, per se. He seemed to carefully avoid Ed's eyes as he scanned the room, running a hand through obsidian locks oh hair. "I'm Roy Mustang, and I'm going to be your Algebra teacher, and quite possibly your worst nightmare this semester."_

CHAPTER TWO: The rest of Edward's first day is related, chronicling meeting an array of friends from his past incarnation, as well as others' place within his current. But not all is cheerful hello, when it soon becomes apparent that Ed and Al are in danger of saying goodbye to their adult-free life.

"_Name your terms." Al had said evenly. "I want money." Joel replied. "Or I'll tell everyone and anyone about the fact that you and your brother slash boyfriend or whatever the hell he is are living alone." "Fine." Al spat. "How much?"_

CHAPTER THREE: In the first Roy-centric moment of the story, we have insight to the daily woes of Roy's teaching career, which has been in progress for a few months now. Not only has his job progressed- we see his attraction to Edward, though limited by distance, has managed to increase over the last few months, as well as his impatience with his situation. Al's bullying problems have also continued, and come to a dramatic conclusion when Roy steps in to resolve conflict for the Elrics, learning in turn their secret, and invoking Edward's wrath.

"_You," Ed breathed. Roy spun to face him, alarmed. That was not a tone of felicity being elicited form the younger man's mouth. "Er. Me." Roy agreed lamely. "You had to step in, we had everything covered!" Ed roared suddenly. "Woah, Ed," Roy said, taken aback. "I was just helping." "Next time," Edward growled, "consider __asking__ if I need your fucking help first!"_

CHAPTER FOUR: Finally! Some background! In this chapter, Edward and Roy make up, spawning a new friendship that both are eager to encourage to its fullest potential. Also, both are recruited to the Science Team, opening the next arc of dramatics.

"_So, what I'm saying is this. My mother __died__ for that kid. No one will __ever__, no man, woman, legal guardian, eighteen or ninety will ever understand that so fully as I. My mother… My mother was the epitome of joy and cheerfulness and warmth and _home_… She was the light of this world. A lot of kids you hear about don't appreciate their parents until they're gone, but Al and I, well, she was always the only person we had. We always loved her more than anything. When she was gone, we were devastated, but I made an oath… I __swore__ to never let anything inhibit me from protecting Al, because that's what she did with her dying breath, defended him. Mom was everything to me. And because of that, Al is now everything. I've always loved my brother, but now I am _dedicated _to him."_

CHAPTER FIVE: Not five minutes afterwards, Roy manages to instigate a bit of social torture on Edward that makes the latter a little bitchy. There is some ensuing flirting, pleading, some more bitching, and a lot of thinking, and finally at the Science Team meeting the two call truce once more. We also get more Mustang backstory, which is always a plus.

"_What I'm saying is, if he theoretically was to start a relationship with a student, that would be his decision, and his business. If he thought he could handle it, or rather, if he thought he __should__ handle it, despite all the trouble he could get into, there would be nothing I could do but support him. However, as accepting as I am, I don't want him in __any__ situation that causes more stress than good. So if someone he had started developing feelings for; feelings he doesn't even realize he has yet, but oh yes, he has them; took something he said a little too harshly, and it was causing him extra anxiety, I don't think it'd be good on him. And if that other person cared about him, too, they'd accept his taunts for what they are- the boy pulling the girl's pigtail, or what have you. I heard you talking to Winry. Oh yes, I was listening. And I can tell from the way that you defended him, even while you're supposedly 'arguing', that you care. So do him a favor, kid. Forgive him. From what I've heard, you do owe him at least that much."_

CHAPTER SIX: We see clips of the after school meetings and such, and watch as the Roy/Ed bond begins to solidify. The infamous dinner scene in which Darrell Mustang assaults Edward from every angle imaginable takes place, and finally, most absurdly of all… Roy's father gives his blessing on a union between Roy and Edward.

"_You know how I feel about your ambiguous sexuality, Roy. I think it's trashy. Sinful. I raised you to believe in God and man and man and woman and man's duty to protect woman and woman's duty to pay man back with producing offspring. Your mother was an accepting woman, she balanced me out a lot. But now, even knowing what she thought, I can't restrict my thoughts on it. It's just who I am. I've always been outspoken, more so since Azalea died. You know that already. But I'm also honest as hell. So I'll tell you two things right now and I don't think you'll like either of them, but they'll be the truth and in my opinion that's what counts in this world. One is that I'm ashamed as a general rule of having a bisexual son. The second being that I wouldn't be ashamed of you being… bisexual with this Elric boy."_

CHAPTER SEVEN: The Havoc/Winry/Alphonse love triangle is further explored, and Edward begins to doubt his ability to maintain an honest friendship with Roy. The culmination of all that is epic occurs when the Science Team final sees Edward trouncing Team Youswell. Congratulating him on his stunning victory is not, however, Roy, but a new love interest, who threatens to eclipse for Edward what Roy had been in his life up to this point. Except for the part where, you know, Edward is _in love_ with Roy. Additionally, Fuery meets Rosé, in the crackpairing of the century, and falls head-over-heels.

_Edward collapsed in the dark foyer in an empty home. Russell was most certainly not Roy. But he would have to do._

CHAPTER EIGHT: Roy is devastated when Edward breaks off their friendship to be with Russell, and he isn't the only one. Alphonse shows his bitter side once more as he watches his brother fail at life, or something like that. After an argument between the brothers, Winry is there to comfort Al, which loosens her resolve against romantic involvement. Edward, meanwhile, meets with Russell, who breaks up with him on the spot. In his grief he turns to Roy, who is gracious enough to take Edward in without _too_ much of a struggle. Edward and Roy finally declare themselves and in the end slashhappy goodness comes and punches you in the face for a bit.

_In any other situation, Roy would have found the reaction comical, As it was, he was just very stiff and nervous. It happened in a brief second. First he was standing, muscles contracted, looking nervous, and then a surge of determination possessed him and he seized Edward. Roy had, incidentally, imagined the first kiss several times. He crashed their lips together, and realized that nothing he'd thought up came close. _

--

Author's Note: And because I did not open with my semi-customary author's note, by now you are indubitably wondering something along the lines of "WHERE THE GOD DAMN FUCKING ASS HELL IS MY FLUFF?" Well, I am here to admit to you, friend, that you are not getting much in the way of cuteness this chapter, besides a series of short vignettes I have written as a sort of interlude. Why all the fuss over a useless chapter? Why not just wait until Chapter Nine, which has been in progress longer than I even knew this "chapter" was going to exist? Because I needed to put more Damaged People lyrics up. Not really. No, actually, now that Roy and Edward are together, the overall plot is, what, exactly? We had minor character ends to tie, yes? But the major driving focus has resolved itself. As such, Part One of the epic Damaged People fanfiction is over, and we are now entering Damaged People: Part Two. What exactly does this mean? It means that Roy and Ed have found happiness, but does every relationship not have its bumps? It means that Havoc is starting to become increasingly distant with Winry, to what end the reader cannot be certain. It means Winry and Al are growing closer, but more than one hurdle may lie in their path to felicitous union. It means that Fuery and Rosé are going to learn true love, but the relationship that may seem to be the least important may end up fucking up _everyone's_ life. There will be humor. There will be bishounen kissing. There will be angst. There will be violence, and threats of violence. Our friends' pasts are coming back to them at once, and not for the better. As such, it is only natural to expect death. Tragedy can also strike in new birth: who will get pregnant? Will it be Winry? Will it be Rosé? Will it be Hawkeye? Will it be Armstrong?! Or will it be a face that is revoltingly familiar, yet new in context? Relationships will shatter, new bonds will form. And one of our friends will not stick around for the procession. So many questions, but the real one here is: will _you_ be able to keep up?

Damaged People Part Two. Ready or not, here it comes.

--

CHAPTER EIGHT POINT FIVE: The Past. (Note: Timeline is butchered, intentionally. Shoes random points of interest, some out of order.)

"Edward!" His mother calls over the roar of the waves on the beach. He replies with a speechless grin and a shrill cry of happiness as the baby boy chases hermit crabs across the beach. A rumble of thunder does not disturb his exploits, nor does the increased wind speed.

"Eddy!" Another, deeper voice joins his mother's, and this time baby Edward spins around in the direction of their beach house to see his father running to him.

"Pop!" Edward squeals, bouncing from leg to leg and clapping. It is the only word he knows how to say, and he's been saying it for about two weeks now.

"Eddy," his father admonishes, though Edward does not know what admonishment is. "How'd you get out here, Buddy?" He scoops up the toddler, who fists one chubby hand in a blonde beard and knocks his father's glasses askew with the other.

"Pop!" Edward reiterates as he is draped over his father's shoulder, and they are running back to the house. He makes a swooshing noise that his father realizes is meant to approximate the waves.

"No playing on the beach during a storm, Eddy. Sorry," Hoenheim says, knowing it does not matter, because Edward doesn't understand him. The latter's face has crumpled, though, and tears rivaling the rainstorm's are oncoming.

"Edward!" A very pregnant Trisha Elric screams with relief as Hoenheim scales the steps up to the front porch, two at a time, so as to avoid the rain. Edward screams with the loss of his hermit crabs. Trisha looks at her husband with wide eyes. "How'd he get out?"

"'Dunno," Hoenheim replies, looking concerned. "We must've left the screen door cracked, or-"

"Or," Trisha suggests, looking torn between horror and pride, "He's learned to turn doorknobs."

"Well," says Hoenheim slowly, knowing that he should choose his words carefully, knowing his wife's emotional state, "While I have no doubt that he _could_ operate the door, considering his intelligence, I really don't think he's quite, er, tall enough. Yet."

Trisha sighs relief, and inwardly, Hoenheim mirrors the action. "You're right. I didn't think about that."

"Aw, Angel," he whispers, putting his arms around the twenty-year old, she still gripping their squalling son.

"I was so scared. I can't lose him, Hoenheim. Not after... not after... The others."

"Hey. We aren't going to lose him. We just need to be more careful. Now that he's growing up, Eddy's bound to be more curious. Let's just take this as a lesson learned, okay? Double check the doors from now on, and we'll be fine."

"Okay," she responded, tearfully. And then, "Oh!"

"What?" Hoenheim drew back from her quickly, looking alarmed.

"It's the baby. He's kicking." Trisha said, her eyes filled with wonderment. Her face split into a grin. "You sure you don't want to feel?"

Hoenheim shook his head, vehemently. Trisha laughed, calming some.

"Most fathers love that part."

"Not me," Hoenheim stated unnecessarily, thoroughly grossed by the affair. It just felt... wrong.

"Okay, okay. Come on, you goose." Hoenheim wondered if she was talking to him or her son. "We gotta get inside. Shh, shh." She said, this time assumedly to the din in her arms.

The family went inside and settled themselves on an old loveseat, Edward on his father's lap, in front of a television. As they watched a live performance of a distant acquaintance of Hoenheim's on solo concert the piano, Edward was pacified until he became attentive, listening to the keys and the chords and the occasional accompaniments of the violins. He even sang little notes along with a piece that his father sometimes played for the family.

"Missed a chord just there," Hoenheim commented idly, though his eyes reflected appreciation. "It was supposed to be A Minor."

"It isn't an easy piece to play," Trisha reminded him, and he nodded.

"You managed it just fine," He told her, and she laughed.

"At _maybe_ half the proper tempo, and without over a million people watching me."

"But you didn't mess up."

"Lalala la laaa, la." Sang Edward quietly.

"Well, you could say that not being at the proper speed meant the entire piece was messed up," Trisha said, smiling.

"Mm. I think it sounds better that tempo, anyway," Hoenheim replied, and then there was a comfortable silence filled only by Edward's humming along with the television.

"I'm having a concert in the Central City in a few months," Hoenheim eventually said.

"Oh! Would you mind brining me?" Trisha asked, her eyes alighting with memories of growing up in the City.

"Actually," he said, turning to look at her over top of the head of the baby blonde, who stopped singing to try and figure out what was going on. "I was hoping you'd come on stage and play a number with me."

Trisha's eyes widened. "But- but Hoenheim, I don't know..."

"I've been teaching you for a year now, Trisha. And you've progressed more quickly than I've ever seen anyone take, especially at an adult age. We won't do anything terribly difficult. Maybe..."

"What about," she suggested, "Oh, Hoenheim, could we do Edward's song?"

Hoenheim was a little surprised. "It's a little longer than I had envisioned, but if you are up to it, I'd love to play that with you."

Trisha smiled pure sugar sweetness, and nodded. "That's it. That's the only piece I could ever play with you on stage. I can't wait."

Edward surveyed the exchange with a baffled expression on his face.

"I'm glad, Angel. I'm glad."

--

Later the same evening, the storm had blown out the power, and the three sat on the same love seat, Edward asleep on his father's chest, and Trisha snuggled up to her husband's shoulder, clutching a single muscled arm, her legs tucked beneath her.

"I thought of a name, today." Trisha whispered, staring fondly at the thirty-year-old's face as he studied his slumbering son.

"What?" He asked, not looking away from the boy.

"Christophe."

"Christophe, huh?"

"You don't like it?"

"I-," he considered, twisting his mouth contemplatively. "-love it."

"You do?" Asked Trisha excitedly. Hoenheim turned to her, grinning.

"I do," he said. "I really do."

They continued to grin brightly at each other, both thinking the same thing, until suddenly Hoenheim swooped forward and kissed her, hard, searing.

"Mm," Trisha said quietly as he pulled away and began to nip her jaw, and then onto her neck. Edward stirred a little, bringing their stolen moment to a halt.

"I think," Hoenheim suggested a bit huskily, "It's time we tried the crib again."

"He hates it, though, Hoenheim. He always gets so scared, to be alone," Trisha said, wanting privacy, but also concerned for her son.

"He's got to learn to sleep on his own eventually, Angel," he told her, and she nodded hesitantly.

They placed him in his crib, and then went to their own room for a blessed hour of what intimacy the pregnancy would allow, before being startled awake to desperate cries of "POP! POP!"

--

Ten-year-old Roy and his girlfriend, Madison, lounged despondently on a wooden picnic table while Gracia fretted and paced in front of them, wringing her hands.

"What if they expel him?" She asked for the tenth time.

"They won't," Roy replied.

"But what if they _do_?"

"Jesus, Gracia. Will you just calm down?"

"But he's been _framed_!" She screeched, and Roy shuddered. Gracia and Hughes had seemed like such normal people back in the first grade, and while Maes's particular brand of psychosis had developed, like his own, into rebellion, Gracia had taken the opposite route of inherent goody-two-shoes-ism; she was the top of the class, the sweetest and most naïve person in the school, and the biggest worrywart this side of twelve. Though he had developed strong, brotherly affection for Gracia that he could not dispose of, and would not for the world if he could, he was painfully aware of the dent on his reputation the girl had. It had been bad enough for Maes and he to have a female best friend in elementary school when she was still _normal_, and now that she had been branded a nerd by their peers, even Maes's and his popularity could not redeem her.

Still, Gracia was an intrinsic part of their trio in a way Madison never would be, nor any of Roy's girlfriends, for that matter. She was their mother-away-from-Mommy; the little sister Roy had never had and Hughes had more than enough of, anyway; the voice of reason to their hair-brained schemes for pissing of Principal Lester. She was their Gracia and they were her Boys, and that was the end of it, no matter what anyone else in their grade had to say about it.

"Grace, I sincerely doubt that anyone framed your boyfriend. He probably deserves whatever punishment he's getting." Madison said lazily, getting tired of the other girl's shrill outbursts. She glanced at Roy, looking for approval on his face, but he only scowled.

Grace was what everyone besides Hughes and Roy called Gracia, because a teacher had called her that in the second grade because she had forgotten Gracia's real name, and it had caught on. Gracia did not mind, even at times in her life preferred the mistake to its true counterpart, but in later years, when she stared at yearbook messages that began "Dear Grace," there was a deep appreciation for the two friends who had remembered who she really was.

"Actually, contrary to what seems to be popular belief, Maes is not a cheater. There is absolutely no way he did this." To Gracia, he added, "So they can't possibly convict him."

"And he's _not_ my boyfriend," Added Gracia stubbornly.

"Yeah, sure," Madison said, stretching like a cat. She straightened her skirt and hopped up from the bench, dusting her bottom. "My mom is probably around front by now. You need a ride home?" She asked Roy in what, in their fifth-grade world, could be considered a sultry voice.

"No," Roy replied.

"Walk me to the car, then, at least," Madison demanded petulantly. What good was a boyfriend if he didn't fawn over Madison like her sister's boyfriend did over her sister?

"I better not," Roy declined without any real regret, but smoothing his voice in an already-expert manner. "Have to make sure Gracia doesn't go into conniptions over here."

Neither Gracia nor Madison knew what the word 'conniptions' meant, but both knew to be offended, Gracia that Roy would insinuate she needed watching over, and Madison that he would choose Gracia's company over her own. However, what Madison could do that Gracia could not was channel her anger in the direction it least deserved, so it was Gracia who received Madison's retaliation.

"Fine, babysit the loser, then, if you'd rather be annoyed to death than say hello to my mom. Call me later." She said sweetly, and attempted to kiss Roy, who sat statue-still with his arms crossed while she settled for his cheek. As she left, Roy announced significantly,

"Well, consider her gone."

"Roy, don't break up with her over me, not again," Gracia said in a small voice.

"Oh, don't be dense. That had nothing to do with you. She was being vindictive, and that's all there is to it."

Gracia marveled at how intelligent her friend always managed to sound, while all his peers bumbled around with words like too many marbles in their hands. "Maybe," was all she could say as she took Madison's place on the bench.

"Oh, Roy," Gracia moaned. "What has Maes gotten himself into this time?"

"I dunno, Gracia," he replied, putting his arm around his friend's shoulders, "But I'm certain he'd be pretty insulted at the notion that you give him so little credit in his ability to get himself out of trouble."

"I might have a bit more faith if you two weren't constantly ending up in the Principal's office," she replied without any warmth.

"Ah, Gracia," Roy mused, smiling a little. "When will you learn that the only way to have fun is to take a little risk now and then?"

--

The concert had gone exactly as scheduled, and the final number, Hoenheim's duet with about-to-burst Trisha, with little Edward dancing wherever his little legs wanted to carry him onstage, had received a tear-streaked standing ovation.

The ceremony in the theatre's lobby afterwards brought nothing but the most sincere comments of profound admiration for the performance, and even Trisha was complimented on her meager piano abilities.

It all came to an abrupt halt as Trish went into labour, right in the middle of the party, and Hoenheim had to rush her to the hospital before the driver could even be tracked down.

The guests left slowly, asking Hoenheim's manager to pass on well-wishes and gifts for the mother, and the mood light and buoyant at the ludicrousness of the babe's timing.

A single shot rang throughout the lobby, and then a second, a third, a fourth, and finally, a fifth.

Three men and two women, the last of the guests and one employee of the theatre, fell.

Later investigation would reveal that Geoffrey Hensley was a deeply disturbed man with a deep-seated hatred of the socioeconomic upper-class, which had left him unemployed because of company hand-changing, and soon thereafter divorced because of lack of financial stability at the age of twenty-three. He had gone to the theatre in both tuxedo and drunken stupor, remembering how his ex-wife had always dreamed of one day attending with himself, had sat through Hoenheim's performance, had seen the family, and the love, and the success that this man achieved at not much older than himself in the final piece, and had pulled out his gun and destroyed these people the way they had, in his mind, destroyed him. He shot Jodie Christiansen, the theatre employee, who suffered extreme leg pain for the rest of her life. He shot Missy China and Derek Hoffman, who were successful entrepreneurs, and though Derek went on entrepreu-ing, Missy had been shot in the face, and her disfigurement, even after reconstructive surgery, led her to heavily alcoholism. Worst of all, he shot Alphonse Knowles, an elderly government official known for supporting the creative arts in schools and an avid campaigner for relief aid for the destitute. Alphonse Knowles endured a painful two-hour battle at the hospital before he finally died. Not that Geoffrey Hensley would ever know or care about this; he shot himself in the head after the first four shots had been fired.

After six hours of labour and delivery ("A piece of cake, compared to Edward," Trisha would later remark), the youngest Elric was born, and Trisha and Hoenheim's tears of joy mingled with those of sorrow and regret.

--

The party had been going on all night, but showed no intent of slowing. Roy was busy charming the pants off of his girlfriend Julie when Maes sidled up to him, looking grim. He did not have to tell Roy; Maes saved that look for one person alone.

"Christ, where is she?" He broke off mid-sentence. Without offering an explanation to Julie, he followed Maes through the crowd.

Gracia was huddled in the back seat of Maes's car with her mascara running and Maes's jacket over her arms and knees, which were curled into a ball.

"Gracia?" Roy asked quietly. She scooted over in the back seat so he could sit next to her. "Lemme guess. Jerk up and left you again."

Gracia did not reply, only bit her lip and shoved some runny snot away from her nose. Hughes had gotten in on the opposite sideand put his arm around her waist, and she did not respond.

"It was worse than that, Roy," Hughes said quietly, fiercely, in a voice Roy did not recognize.

"What did he- Gracia, are you _pregnant_?" Roy asked, astonished. Gracia shook her head but did not offer an alternate explanation. Maes pursed his lips, and opened his mouth a few times to explain, before deciding the words would just not come. In lieu of a verbal account, he lifted part of his jacket away from Gracia, who did not try to stop him, but cast her eyes downwards and would not look at either of her best friends.

Roy saw freckles. Gracia's blouse- the one she'd saved up for with three month's paychecks from her afterschool waitressing gig, was torn from the neckline through the right sleeve. Around her upper arm were clearly defined bruise marks- in the shape of a hand that had gripped her. The dark patches continued across her chest from that and, he noticed for the first time as he gently tilted her face to face him (she still wouldn't meet his eyes), darkening a semi-circle on her jaw. Roy did not make a noise. He opened the door and got out of the car, closing the door softly behind himself. He walked away five calm paces before abruptly stopping and screaming at lung's capacity. No one could hear him over the music emanating from the house, but it didn't matter. If anything, he wanted to be heard. Make the world afraid, very afraid. Just as afraid as he was right now. Just as angry.

Nonsensible, he lashed out at a trashcan, which spilt its contents over the lawn, and then he went about defacing the mailbox.

"GOD-MOTHER-FUCKING-KILL-BASTARD," he screamed, kicking the trashcan. He heard the car door slam and then felt arms holding his arms behind him, effectively limiting his movement. In a fair fight in which both had their wits about them, Roy could have escaped Maes's grasp easily, but his rage made him clumsy, and he quickly stilled in his friend's arms.

"Where is he," Roy finally said lowly, absolutely still except for his lips. In many ways, Maes thought this ice cold venom in his voice was scarier than his lashing out at inanimate objects.

"There's no point. I already thrashed him all to hell. Left him in a dumpster."

"What, you didn't leave me any fun?" Roy asked, but though the words were a joke, there was only the same frigid monotone.

"Believe me, when I saw what was going on, you were the last person on earth I was thinking about," Maes muttered, releasing Roy. "Come back to the car. You made Gracia hysterical. We need to be focusing on her, not us, or that bastard. Not right now, anyway."

Roy nodded. "You're right." They got back in the car, Roy in the back, holding and making shushing noises to a now-sobbing Gracia, and Maes driving them away. He pulled into a drive-in theatre, paid the fee without asking what was playing, and parked the car. He got in back with his best friends and put his arms around Gracia also, both men holding their best friend as she cried herself to sleep.

--

KINDERGARTEN, CENTRAL ELEMENTARY. DAY ONE.

"WHO THE HELL ARE YOU CALL SHORT?!"  
Mass pulverisation.

Trisha sighs.  
"Oh, Edward. Can you not wait until your mother leaves before picking a fight?"

--

Edward remembers a lot about his childhood, not all of it friendly. Even before the accident, the Elric brothers were not the most fortunate of children. Edward, like his brother, remembers a frequently ill mother, whose cancer had just gone into remission after a strenuous battle in chemotherapy at the time of the accident. Pinako had taken care of the brothers whenever their mother was admitted, which was frequently enough. It was a blessing that Trisha Elric had had the foresight to give Pinako permanent power of attorney over the boys, or they never could have stayed together after the tragedy. That such a measure had been taken, however, was indicative of the troubled life that they had led; the same life that Trisha lived no more.

Edward remembers an old prosthetic-legged Rockbell family dog, whose name has been lost to time, that he absolutely hated as a child because it was so large in comparison with himself, but that Alphonse delighted in for the same reason. It was, in retroflection, indicative of their natures as a whole: Edward could not bear to contend with anything that had the likelihood of overpowering him (he ran from Roy's friendship when he was afraid), while Alphonse just loved, unconditionally, without ability to restrain his feelings (he loved Winry, despite knowing that it was not the best decision about her he could probably make). Once, this dog bit Alphonse during a game that involved trying to utilize the dog as five-year-old Alphonse's trusty steed. The person to react most violently was not Alphonse, his mother, or even the owners of said beast; it was Edward. The fix-year-old saw the blood running down his younger brother's small hand as he ran to their mother, and Edward was livid. He attacked the already-agitated four-legged nemesis with a foot to his good front leg, and the dog ran away, whimpering.

Edward knew he would be in trouble for this action, and once he heard the dog would have to be put in a cast for weeks afterwards because of his retaliation, he also knew Winry would hate him. What he did not expect was Alphonse's reaction. Alphonse was enraged at Edward's interference, and his abuse of the poor creature that had been their constant companion.

"I don't understand it, Mama. I was just trying to protect Al,"

"The funny thing about protection, Edward," replied Trisha, scrubbing a dish with a cloth, "is that it rarely has anything to do with the person we're protecting. It's more about what _you_ want than what they need."

"He or she needs," Edward corrected, brows furrowed, but walked away. He did not understand the lesson then.

In fact, some might say he never figured it out at all.

--

The Junior called Jean Havoc had a little sister who treated him like living feces and a mother that didn't give a damn, was all Riza really knew about her student's family life. She wouldn't have known that much, if it had not been for over hearing a couple of his friends discussing the matter during class time one day. As much as she tried not to let the image of cheerful Jean going home to hell from a family who took him for granted affect her, Riza felt compassion for the young man. She began silently forgiving him when he came in and fell asleep with dark circle sunder his eyes, and when she spied him outside the windows, looking far away and disturbed as he deeply dragged on a cigarette. To anyone else, including Havoc himself, Riza was the same austere teacher that she had always been to him, but within herself she felt the shift to admiration and pity as he took on a load heavier than any fifteen-year-old should have to carry. Her heart broke when she overheard the same friends saying that Havoc had made first string quarterback and would've probably made a scholarship to college, but he had to quit the team because his mother needed him to look after his sister. He was so bright, if unapplied, but even if he committed one-hundred percent, it wouldn't matter, because his family would just take whatever he happened to earn. Suddenly, Riza did not blame Havoc so much for just not caring, though she promised herself she would push him, anyway.

Actually, Riza was not completely certain why she cared quite so much. If it had been any other student, she probably could have easily kept her professional distance and justified to herself that it would all come out right in the ende, and was not her place to interfere anyway. But it being Jean- sweet, playful Jean who bantered and harmlessly flirted and grew on her more than any other student ever had or ever would- Riza found herself instead of calling down his friends for gossiping in class, listening in on their hushed conversations while looking preoccupied with grading papers.

This was how she found out that Jean and his mother spent an entire night screaming at each other over whether or not his new girlfriend were allowed to come meet the family; jean said he had promised the girl, and the mother dissented that she was in no mood to put up with waiting hand-and-foot on one of his little princess friends from uptown. Jean had argued, said she was important to him, and that they wouldn't stay long, only have dinner and then leave for a movie. But the mother screamed at the notion, and told him that if he was so eager to spend time with a rich little bitch like that snobby character, he could damn well leave. Havoc had confessed it all on the phone to one boy, Breda, and he told mutual a friend of theirs while they pretended to go over chapter review questions.

Jean Havoc came in later that day looking like a ghost, and Riza's chest throbbed. Though he was the first person in the room, he refrained from his usual banter and sat heavily down at his desk. During her lesson, Hawkeye gave him continuous glances, and she was not the only one to do so. His blank stare and empty presence were disturbing, and compared with the buoyant clown that occupied that seat whenever his presence graced them at all, the current entity was a mere corpse. After class, Hawkeye called the young man back to her desk with intention of drawing out the source of his anguish firsthand, so she could act of relieving it.

"Jean, is everything alright?" Riza asked tentatively.

"Not really," he replied to her surprise, running a hand over his own face. "I sort of just broke up with my girlfriend. I'm sorry, I ddin't catch any of your lesson, either. I'm going to have to get the notes from someone, I guess."

Hearing _him_ apologise to _her_, when she was the one who had failed to protect him caused her no end of inner turmoil. Attempting to make up for the guilt, Riza offered her services in the most obvious way she saw fit.

"If you want, you could come after school, and I'll go over the chapter with you personally," she said kindly. He brushed the offer away, though.

"Thanks, but I can't."

Hawkeye frowned. "Something more important to do than study, Jean?"

"Not really," admitted Jean. "I just- my sister has a recital later. She doesn't really even want me there, judging by the fact that she did not tell me about it, but, I don't know. I just sort of wanted…"

He was leaning on her desk now while she stood behind it, and he was already taller than her and had the physique of an adult male. No wonder he had gotten that prime sports postion; Jean Havoc really was in amazing shape for a teenager.

And as he continued rambling in a sleep-deprivation-induced haze, Riza found herself sliding a hand over his own broader, tanner one, and meeting his dark eyes with her own chocolate ones. "I understand." She said. His face unclouded for a moment, and she was seriously afraid (and pleasantly anticipant, at the same time), of him trying to kiss her, but he simply removed his hand from under hers and nodded, before walking away.

"By the way," he mentioned, pausing in the doorway, "Good luck at your regional competitions this weekend, in case I forget to mention it."

And that is the exact moment she fell in love with him.

--

Roy was late from taking his girlfriend Gina back to her parents. He was supposed to have been in ninety minutes ago, so he climbed the lattice to his window, pulled himself onto the six-inch ledge, pushed in the screen, and with practiced ease settled himself on his own carpet flooring before searching for his lamp in the dark with his hand. Before he could find it, a voice drifted to his ears, perfectly friendly, but they nearly made him jump out of his skin.

"Good evening, Roy."

His heart beat reset itself, yet Roy was not consoled. The voice, especially speaking to him in that manner considering the circumstances, made his body break into uncontrollable cold shivers.

"Dad, hey, I really need to talk to you about getting another key," Roy began quickly, hoping against hope…

"Oh, Roy, don't be silly, your key is right in your wallet, the same place it always is." Said his father pleasantly, and Roy did not like that he could not see the man, did not like it at all.

"…I…" Roy swallowed. His father had not hit him since he was a boy, and even then it had only been strictly disciplinary, but he was also fairly certain that most children in this day and age were _not_ disciplined with barbed switches. Now, though, he though maybe his father would make a special exception. If there was one rule you did not break in the Mustang household, it was curfew. "So are you going to beat me, or what."

"No, Roy, I am not. And I'm going to tell you why. I know that if I hurt you it will just make you resent me, and you will be even more likely to rebel against my authority in the future. So I will not lay a finger on your goddamned spoiled little head."

Roy was thoroughly chilled. "What, then?"

"I'm going to let your mother do it."

Roy blinked, though in the darkness it had no effect. "You're going- what?"

"I said," and the lights turned on, and he saw his mother at the light switch, looking terrified, though determined, and Darrel sitting on his bed, cross-legged. "Your mother will be taking care of your punishment."

"But, Mom wouldn't," but seeing his mother's face, so guilty, yet so resolute, pained and disgusted with herself all the while, he was not so certain. In fact, his certainty level was, on a scale of one to ten, at about a negative two.

"Good night, Roy," Darrel replied, standing up and leaving the room. Azalea set her brown eyes on her son and she whispered, so that Roy only knew what she had said long after she had said it, "Why did you have to do this to us, Roy?"

And then, louder, in a steely voice that wasn't quite the confidence of a military man seeing to it that his troops at home weren't getting out of line, "Bend over, son."

She approached with a paddle that Roy had known well as a child.

Well, goddamn.

The bastard had certainly outdone himself.

--

Edward, Alphonse, and Winry lied on their backs in the grass, staring at the clouds.

"That one looks like a strawberry," Winry said.

"That one looks like a goldfish." Said Alphonse.

"You think they all look goldfish." Winry, again.

"They do," Alphonse assured.

"Except for that one," Edward piped up. "That one looks like a homeless man running away from a bad paperback novel with legs and an ugly extraterrestrial prostitute."

--

Roy put his head gently on Maes's shoulder. They were both very, very drunk, and very sentimental. Maes was popping the question to Gracia tomorrow, and they were both deeply aware of how much this would change everything.

"You know," Roy said confidentially, "It could have just easily gone the other way, you know. Instead of you and her ending up together."

"What," Hughes asked blurrily, "you mean you and her together? Yeah, I guess so. Do you regret that it didn't?"

"That's not what I meant," Roy contradicted. "I meant _you_ and me."

"Oh." Maes paused and took another swig of whatever brand of alcohol they were on now, at two in the morning. And then, "Do you regret that it didn't?"

"I don't know," Roy said, nuzzling his friend's neck in a way that only drunkenness allowed.

"What about- er, Gary?"

"He's nothin'. I think I like girls more, anyway."

"Yeah, yeah, so do I," Hughes said blurrily, and then put the alcohol on the side table, wrapped an arm around Roy, and fell asleep, drooling on the white pillowcase.

"Yeah, I thought you probably did," Roy answered, remembering times he could've asked but already knew the answer. Hughes could never have really ended up with Roy, all along. He had always been, and always would be, Gracia's.

--

"Rosé, I thought I told you that you couldn't hang out with him anymore."

"Cool it, Cain. I was just walking her home to make sure she got here okay." Russell intercepted.

"I didn't ask you, faggot." Cain snarled.

"Cain, please," Rosé pleaded.

"Forget it, Rosé. Sorry to have intruded. 'Bye."

"Yeah, you're gonna be sorry," Cain muttered as Russell left. "So what was that _really_ all about, Whore?"

"I swear, I didn't ask him to, he just came, and I asked him to go back. He's just trying to be nice. He just cares about me."

"Cares about you?!" Cain roared. "Tell me, Rosé, does he care about you…" he snatched her close and place a rough kiss on her lips and stroked her crotch through her dress, "like I care?"

"No," Rosé whispered, breathless, and they went into the house and had sex twice before Cain fell asleep, snoring.

When later asked why Rosé had not wanted to place charges against Cain for his abuse, she replied simply, "Because he loves me."

--

"Hell-o, Ms Hawkeye," a familiar voice drawled, and junior Jean Havoc sauntered up to her desk.

"Have that make-up work for me, Jean?" she asked.

"Oh yeah, thanks for reminding me," he said, retrieving a pile of papers from his bookbag.

"Good work, and only," she checked her watch, "five minutes until I would have had to declare it unacceptable."

"What can I say? There was a lot to go through. This isn't my only class, sadly enough." He grinned.

"Well, this should teach you not to get laryngitis again anytime soon," Riza replied dryly, quite aware that Havoc was nowhere near a sick bed and instead taking smoke breaks and then forging impeccable notes from his mother to excuse himself from class. He had even waved to her from the sidewalk outside the window during the period he'd had her class once, and she'd only rolled her eyes and continued her lesson.

"Nooo, but I hear there's a strain of mononucleosis running around amongst the freshman regiments," he said, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Sorry, Havoc; you generally have to have a partner to get the kissing disease." She replied in the same dehydrated manner.

"Oh, you wound me, making me sound like such a fool with your biting comebacks," he drawled.

"You don't need my help for that, Jean," Hawkeye assured her student.

"Riza, Riza, Riza," he sighed dramatically. "One of these lifetimes you'll realize that words are sharper than knives, my dear."

"Go to class, Jean." She was flustered at being referred to with terms of endearment, never mind the thrill hearing her first name come out of his mouth provided.

Havoc raised a thick blonde eyebrow. "Miss Hawkeye," he said slowly, "It's the end of the day."

Hawkeye was even more upset at having made such a stupid error due to her fanciful attractions to the younger man. "Go home, then."

"Okay," Jean agreed without hesitation, grinning, and began to leave so suddenly that Riza blurted out "Wait," before she thought about it.

"Yes?" He replied innocently.

"You forgot to put your name on this," Riza finished lamely, indicating his make-up work.

"Riza," he replied, taking a step back towards her desk, then stopping, and turning back around with a grin. "You'll take care of that for me, won't you?"

He left, and what Hawkeye really felt like doing was throwing the whole damn packet away, just to show him who was really in control, but, of course, she did not do that. Instead she pulled out a pen and scrawled elegantly in the top-right corner, Jean Havoc.

--

He had been a college professor, and she had been a young university hopeful, on a tour for the weekend. Both renowned for their intellect in their circles, both captivatingly pretty, and both sporting that particular aura of confidence that can be perceived from across a crowded room, it was only natural that the two should lock gazes. He broke off in his lecture, mesmerized, for a full half a second (a record of speechlessness for Hoenheim Elric). She was just as instantly taken, although it was harder for her to acknowledge, especially as she felt the arm of her four-year boyfriend, Timothy Granger, slip around her waist possessively. Perhaps he, too, had noticed the factional moment of time that had elapsed in which the two most compatible souls in a decade's list of romances had chanced meet, but if he sensed such a meeting, the only emotion it inspired was wicked jealousy. As Hoenheim continued the effects of a composer's work on the sixteenth century's formulaic opera, Trisha developed a sudden interest in music that she had never before noticed, as such pastimes had never been cultivated in her home.

"Tim," Hoenheim greeted his student after class.

"Professor Elric," Timothy returned, somewhat warily, but hiding his apprehension well. "This is my girlfriend, Trisha Montgomery."

"Pleased to meet you," Trisha said confidently, putting out a hand to shake. She was caught off guard when Hoenheim received his hand with both of his and lowered his face to place a light kiss.

"And yourself, Miss Montgomery," he said, charmingly.

Trisha was amazed, but a far cry from amused. "It's the twentieth century, Professor," she said, and though her tone was light, her words were biting. "When a woman is introduced, you can treat her as an equal, and not as someone who is wont to collapse from her own frailty at any moment. A handshake will do."

Professor Elric was showed no hint of surprise, nor remorse, and as he replied, his eyes were twinkling. "Humor me, Miss Montgomery. I am, after all, a bit older, and old-fashioned besides. I assure you no insult is intentional."

Trisha frowned, and Timothy was torn between relief at her rebuke of his professor's flirtations and embarrassment of her own audacity.

"So what bring Miss Montgomery into town, may I ask?" Elric continued, as though the awkward exchange had not take place at all.

"She's an up-and-coming college Freshman, and Gateiron is one of her top choices," Timothy replied, unable to keep the pride from his voice. Trisha still refused to speak, or even look at the twenty-six-year-old instructor.

"Freshman? How old are you, Miss Montgomery? You certainly do not look old enough to be attending university." And whether or not this was a jab at her impertinent demeanor, only he would ever know. Trisha eyed him resentfully.

"Old-fashioned courtesy dictates that you never ask a lady her age, Professor." She replied in a clipped voice.

"Oh Trisha, stop," Timothy scolded, embarrassment finally winning out over his enjoyment of seeing himself being chosen over his notoriously flirtatious teacher. "She's seventeen, sir."

"They just keep breeding them smaller and smaller these days. You must have been the envy of all your friends at school. My younger sister would have killed for a frame like yours." Hoenheim observed approvingly.

"I was homeschooled." Trisha commented shortly. There was a thirty-second pause in which Timothy looked exasperated, Trisha maintained her agitated expression, and Professor Elric grinned congenially and even hummed half a tune as he looked around the now-empty lecture hall.

"Well, I certainly hope to see you joining the Freshman ranks next year, Miss Montgomery." Hoenheim said pleasantly. "Not, if you two will excuse me, I have a date that I'm already running a bit late to. See you Wednesday in class, Timothy, and Trisha, it was charming meeting you, my Dear." And with that he was gone.

"Timothy," Trisha said sadly, "I really don't think I can come to college here. Not if all the Professors are like that."

"What do you mean?" Timothy asked, startled at this turn of events. "Hoeheim's alright. He didn't mean anything by kissing your hand, Trish."

"He's a pompous idiot." Trisha declared, turning towards the door. "Besides, I already have a boyfriend."

What _that_ had to do with anything, Timothy was afraid to consider.

--

Kain was easily, he noticed to his discomfort, the smallest boy in the class. He'd gotten used to this over the years, but at the beginning of every school semester he foolishly allowed himself to hope that his eyes would alight on a smaller specimen of his grade level than himself. In eighth grade, it had not been quite so bad, because there were three grade levels of smaller boys to detract from his particular scrawniness, but now that he was a Freshman, the realization of his own diminutive stature would pang like an old wound reopened.

C lunch was a troublesome spot. None of his old friends had the same lunch, which was strange, because it wasn't as if he were so unpopular that there weren't many of them to go around. All the same, it looked as though Serendipity had frowned at him yet again, and Kain decided to head over to an empty table and let it fill around him, hoping that he could befriend someone before long. He really meant no harm at all, you see.

"Hey, kid," someone rewarded his efforts with a cruel interruption. "You ain't an upperclassman."

"No," Kain said slowly around a bite of bologna and cheese sandwich, the same lunchmeat he'd preferred since he was seven.

"What, being a smart ass? Get up. Freshmen," the newcomer rolled his eyes to the others. The others sniggered.

"E-e-excuse me, didn't realized this was reserved seating," Fuery babbled, picking up his belongings and moving away.

"Hey, kid," another voice soon called, and Fuery groaned inwardly. What was he doing wrong this time?! Oh, accursed C lunch protocol!

"Y-yes?" Fuery replied in the direction of the voice. A broad, cigarette-tinted grin met him, along with a chubby smirk and sundry other characters' more-or-less invitational gestures.

"Come here," the firs voice said again, and the blonde who looked like he was probably a smoker revealed himself as its origin.

"Okay," Fuery mumbled, very careful not to stammer.

"That was a gutsy move, my man. You're lucky those guys didn't skin you alive." One of his cohorts complimented.

"I- er. I didn't know," Fuery stammered guiltily.

"Oh, come on. Don't act like you didn't know that that's been the Yoki gang's table since the beginning of time. Event the _Fresshies_ know that," another inputted, grinning.

"The- you mean, that was the…" Fuery became very pale.

"You really didn't know?" Asked another, wide-eyed. Fuery shook his head, stunned, and suddenly very thankful to be alive, and relatively uninjured, besides his pride. There was a deep silence, which was cracked when the first boy burst into laughter.

"Oh, jeeze. What the hell is _wrong_ with you, kid? Here, pull up a chair. What's your name?" he asked, wiping tears from his eyes.

"Kain," Kain replied, torn between unease and relief to have found what could very unprobably but still potentially develop into friendship. It was somewhere to sit, anyway. "Kain Fuery."

"Well Fuery, I'm Havoc, and this is Breda, and this is Martel, Dorochet, Bido, and Loa. Don't get too attatched to those four though; their Seniors." He added, confidentially.

"So you're… what?" Fuery asked, referring to the figures he now knew as Havoc and Breda.

"Not far above you, actually. Sophomores." Havoc said. Though he was one of the youngest, he seemed to also be the leader of the group.

"Well, that's cool," Fuery said awkwardly. Over the year he would sit by these six people every day, and against Havoc's advice, grew very fond of the Seniors. When they left, and a year passed in which the remaining three of the old gang still hung out for the semester that they had lunch together again, and then Havoc sat with his friends and Fuery with his for the second semester when Breda had a different lunchtime and the two of them were not enough company, nor compatible enough in the other's social spheres to stay together, Fuery felt as though four pieces of himself had graduated and gone to seek their fortunes in the wide world. The hurt was a little softened when Jean Havoc's new girlfriend joined their family, and then her friend (and coincidentally, as of shortly before, his own) Edward joined, and his life once again seemed filled with the same companionship as before. Meeting Rosé had never been part of the plan. Falling in love with her had never been in the schedule. And suddenly, seeing the same four faces across the table every day, but never the face of the one girl he wanted to see, was completely and utterly inadequate.

--

Alphonse sat up and looked around the room. He gripped the low-hanging metal bars, one of many sets that Pinako, in her infinite welding expertise, had installed around the home, and in his room particularly, so that he could be independent. Using his arm strength alone, Alphonse lifted himself up and dropped into his wheelchair, which was right next to the bed. He rolled over to his closet, and using a pole with a wire at the end that clothing retailers used to reach hangers above reach, he selected a sweater and a pair of pants. But before he would change, Alphonse made a point to roll over to a bar ladder mounted to his wall, which led to a larger, higher mounted bar. Once he had successfully managed to grab onto this bar, Alphonse began the rigorous task of pulling himself up and down, willing his dead weight to cooperate as he exercised. After ten minutes, Alphonse was in danger of falling off from having his hands too slippery with perspiration (it would not be the first time, but sometimes Edward did not rise until late in the morning, and Alphonse did not like struggling to crawl back to his wheelchair if he could avoid it), so he dropped into the expertly-positioned wheelchair and stretched for a few moments before turning to his hand weights, which he utilized for closer to fifteen minutes before sliding onto his bench-press station (he wondered wryly how many boys his age had one of _these_ in their bedrooms) and worked until he was in pain, and could not really remember how long he'd been at it. After this ritual was complete, the same way it was completed every morning, Alphonse clambered awkwardly back into the chair, rolled to his bed to grab his pre-selected clothing, and then down the hall, to take a hot shower.

--

EXCLUSIVE PREVIEW: CHAPTER NINE.

"Damn it, Winry! Has it occurred to you that I can't possibly _help_ if I don't know what it is you need me to help _with_?"

Winry didn't reply, only turned a little to the left and pretended to eye how the dress would look over her waist once on. Finally, trying to sneak a glance to see how angry Ed was, she inadvertently caught the latter's eye. "I'm having trouble with Havoc," she admitted.

"Oh, god, here it goes," Ed groaned.

"He's been… weird, lately," Winry continued, heedless of Ed's sarcasm.

"And this is any different from the usual?" Ed replied acridly.

"Yes, it is, actually," Winry snapped, feeling impatient with the boy's behavior. "He's normally a very normal, cool boyfriend. Until…"

"Until?" Edward pried, unable to feign disinterest out of brotherly concern for his best friend.

"He thinks I'm in love with Alphonse," Winry said hesitantly.

"Oh. I see." Edward's lips compressed into a thin line.

"Yeah." Winry said awkwardly, now staring at the floor. "It's… yeah."

"Well, I still don't see what this has to do with me. I mean, what the hell am I supposed to do about it?" Edward replied with an apathetic shrug.

Winry took deep breaths. "Just come with me and observe. See if you can see what I'm talking about; see if he seems attracted to anyone who isn't me in particular, or if it's all in my head."

Edward now has to choose: loyalty to his brother, or his best friend? And he is not the only one who has a big decision. Can Havoc salvage his relationship with Winry, knowing he has feelings for Riza?

And there is Roy. Lots of him.

So look forward to the next chapter. Review if you're excited! I know I am!

I hope this doesn't suck. I am so excited to be finished with this chapter that I am submitting it without beta or much proofreading.

-TVG.


	11. There is no defense

Author's Note. Right. Definitely going to apologize to my dear readers for last chapter. A lot of you were disappointed, which in turn disappointed me. Not with you all, with myself. I took my storytelling agenda further than the desires of my readers, which, if I was writing serious literature, would be preferable, but as this is most certainly not anything remotely resembling serious literature, well, all I can say is, "oops." X_o And here's a weird factoid… Beta reading as a function of ?! This is the coolest feature since we got _avatars_! (Not that I'll actually take the intiative to take advantage of this new feature, but still.) Kudos to the techies at Fanficdotnet.. Gawd, I love you guys. All my base are belong to **YOU**, Fanficdotnet Techies.

In another note; OH MY GOD I THOUGHT I'D LOST MY OUTLINE. Which would have been truly unpleasant had I really, considering that outside from that sheet of paper I've a very flimsy idea of where this story is headed. Bahhh. Enough angst. It's FICTIMEBTCH.

Disclaimer: FullMetal Alchemist, nope. Damaged People, nope. Lovesong by the Cure, nope. In other disclaimer news: Gee whirlicurs! I haven't written one of these since I was a Hamtaro fanwriter! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH-

Damaged People.

OR

**Each Occupation has its Hazards, and You Happen to Be Mine.**

Chapter Nine: Dance; this is the Way They'd Love if They Knew how Misery Loves Me.

_Sunday,_ _09 May 2007, 11:27 AM_

_Journal Entry_

_"_Dearest Cousin,

"I'm sorry that I have taken so long to reply, but as you are aware, I have been acutely attentive in my perusal of a position in the ever-competitive teaching industry. I'm pleased to report that my desperate searches for a science department teaching post have finally paid off. I have finally found a school that, despite the recent downturn of the economy, has a teaching post they will need filled beginning this autumn. I guess I should be very thankful that I waited to go through my extensive schooling before looking for a job after all, or else I hardly would have been qualified enough to compete with the hundreds of other people aiming for the same position. And you worried that I would have to resort to throwing away my college education for a research commission, when all along all I've ever wanted was to teach! Oh ye of little faith, Cousin!

"I am not writing merely to gloat, though. I have some rather exciting news, actually. The aforementioned teaching post is actually right in Amestris! Can you believe it? We'll be neighbors, more or less, contingent upon what neighborhood I end up in. I was fairly enthused by this development, anyway. I can't wait to hear your reaction. Also cannot wait to meet my baby 'niece!' She looked adorable in the last bunch of pictures you sent me. That dress looks a lot like a smaller version of the one I remember Elena wore that we used to envy whenever the family got together, because our dresses were always so dreary in comparison. That's what comes of being born of the respective wombs of the prudent sisters of the Everest clan, I suppose. (It's a good thing my mother married into the Hawkeye family, or else I fear my childhood would have been the end of me for boredom.) Is that why you bought it? You should send a copy to Elena, also. She and her homely husband can eat their hearts out.

"That was pretty uncharitable, I guess, but right now I'm quite elated enough to be beyond caring. I am moving to Amestris! Right in town! It'll be almost like old times again, will it not? Well, plus the husband and the baby. Close as it can get under the circumstances, anyway.

"I guess I'm rambling. You know how I get when I am excited, though. I suppose that I will spare you anymore lunacy so that you can tend to your family and what have you. Please reply soon!

"Your little 'sister,'

"Riza."

_I remember writing that letter that I have just stapled to the page over four years ago, now. I found it at my cousin and her husband's house the other day, while I was helping clear their old extra study for their daughter to move into, now that's she's old enough to move out of the nursery. It brings back so many memories. Life was a lot more simple back then, was it not? Just out of college, I thought the world was mine to mold. There was nothing in my way that could inhibit me; I had my job, I was near my favourite relative, and I was ready to start looking for a new relationship, possibly to form a family. That was the summer of perfection, where all fell into place as only fairy tales are wont to see. I found an apartment three blocks away from G, and I looked to the coming school year so eagerly. All my journal entries from those months are filled with the same cheerful confidence as that letter. Where did all of that go? Why has all of that changed?_

_Oh, that's right. Because in September of that year, I met Jean Havoc._

_---_

Riza sets down her pen, because her cell phone is chirping in her pocket, and other patrons of the coffee shop are beginning to look at her in annoyance. It's, Saturday, damn it! Can she not have a single hour to mourn her ironic love life?

"Hawkeye," she snaps at the receiver.

"Riza?" A voice replies, sounding surprised, at the other end of the line.

"Principal Bradley," she replies with the same astonishment. Then, formal as ever, "May I help you, sir?"

"Riza, as a matter of fact, you could," the voice of her boss, resuming congeniality, states. "I need you to do a job for me."

"Sir?" Riza asks, hiding her annoyance. Riza was the principal's go-to girl on all matters of volunteer fund raising and chaperoning, and Riza neither had the patience nor willpower to deal with the PTA's head bulldog Dante to compromise on the streamers or the price or the amount of investment expected out of the teachers or anything.

"This Friday, the Winter Ball." Bradley said by way of explanation. For good measure, he added, "I need you to chaperone."

Riza sighed, understanding that she was being taken advantage of, and also knowing that there was no escaping her boss's antics.

"I'll be there, sir." She guaranteed.

"Great. And, you wouldn't mind doing one other thing for me?"

Riza screamed out loud and jumped at her table with emotion, knocking her chair down in the process. Several other people turned to stare, but she was beyond caring.

"Let me tell you, _sir_, that I do damn near your entire job, so if you want a favor done, really, I should be the one asking you! Do you understand me? I won't be stepped on like this any longer! I-,"

"Riza? Riza, hello, are you there?" The polished voice broke her reverie, and Riza realized she was still sitting, and not responding to the principal, let alone yelling at him.

"Sorry, dropped my phone," She answered curtly. "What were you saying about a favor?"

"Did you really drop your phone? I didn't hear a clatter, and it took you an awful long time to answer again for just dropping it," the principal began suspiciously. 'What the hell does he care?' Riza had to wonder.

"It slid across the floor a bit, and I had to find it. I'm surprised you didn't hear. It was pretty loud here. A bit embarrassing, to be honest. Sir."

"…Well, anyway, I wanted to know if you could get in contact with Mustang. I know you two have worked together, and he's been such a popular addition to the staff that I _know_ the kids will love having him there,"

'Ah. Latching onto a second new teacher that you think will comply to your grocery lists, hm?' Riza pondered as Bradley rambled. "Of course, sir. I'm certain he'd be happy to help out, sir. Of course I'll tell him, sir. No, I don't mind at all. Okay. Goodbye."

Riza clicked off the phone, and whether or not she actually screamed that time was debatable. "I've got to see if Hughes has Mustang's number," She mumbled as she threw her journal and pen back into her purse, drained her latte in one magnificent swallow, and exited the coffee shop into a light flurry of snow outside, stiletto boots punctuating her anger with a staccato click, click, click.

And all that time, one Jean Havoc sits in a far, obscure corner, smoking against policy and sipping a regular black coffee, watching, waiting, for God only knows what kind of sign.

---

Meanwhile, Riza Hawkeye is not the only person getting suckered into attending the winter ball.

"What I don't understand," Edward enunciated slowly, hoping to get the point across to his dense friend, "is why you want me to go to this travesty of anything that might have ever been considered entertaining. Ever."

"That was redundant," Winry replied lightly, holding her blue dress against her slender frame and admiring the juxtaposition in a full-length mirror in her bedroom.

"Of course it was! I've been repeating myself for the last fifteen minutes! I want to know why you want to go, and you keep telling me what fun I'll have or that I should get out more or whatever, but you don't tell me why _you_ want me to go."

"You know. I thought having a boyfriend would make you a little more easy-going, but you're just as high-strung as ever."

Edward bristled. "I'm not high-strung. I'm _frustrated_. Something is going on that you aren't telling me about. I know sincere Winry and I know manipulative Winry. It may be the same person, but each is as distinguishable as either of two sides of a coin. I know you need me there for some reason, and not knowing what that is worries me."

"Or, you're just too nosy for your own good."

"Damn it, Winry! Has it occurred to you that I can't possibly _help_ if I don't know what it is you need me to help _with_?"

Winry didn't reply, only turned a little to the left and pretended to eye how the dress would look over her waist once on. Finally, trying to sneak a glance to see how angry Ed was, she inadvertently caught the latter's eye. "I'm having trouble with Havoc," she admitted.

"Oh, god, here it goes," Ed groaned.

"He's been… weird, lately," Winry continued, heedless of Ed's sarcasm.

"And this is any different from the usual?" Ed replied acridly.

"Yes, it is, actually," Winry snapped, feeling impatient with the boy's behavior. "He's normally a very normal, cool boyfriend. Until…"

"Until?" Edward pried, unable to feign disinterest out of brotherly concern for his best friend.

"He thinks I'm in love with Alphonse," Winry said hesitantly.

"Oh. I see." Edward's lips compressed into a thin line.

"Yeah." Winry said awkwardly, now staring at the floor. "It's… yeah."

"Well, I still don't see what this has to do with me. I mean, what the hell am I supposed to do about it?" Edward replied with an apathetic shrug.

Winry took deep breaths. "Just come with me and observe. See if you can see what I'm talking about; see if he seems attracted to anyone who isn't me in particular, or if it's all in my head."

"Maybe I should rephrase. _Why_ the hell should I do something about it? Does it not occur to you that I have a brother whose happiness is much invested in the fact that one day you and Havoc will no longer be together?"

"Jesus, I didn't ask you to like it, I asked you to do it." Winry replied, throwing her precious dress onto her twin bed, which was already scattered with stuffed animals and UFO dolls of Sailor Senshi. Edward made to retort, but Winry cut him off. "I know your feelings on Havoc, okay? I know you think I shouldn't even be with him. That's completely beside the point, though. Just come to the dance and see if he seems like he's got his eyes anywhere else, specifically. Consider it payback for helping you get ready for your date with Russell, if you must." She added darkly.

Ed growled. He couldn't ignore her, when she phrased it so severely as that. "I- okay. Fine."

"Fine."

"Whatever. I'll show up. Don't expect me to act amused, though. I'll see you whenever."

"Whenever," Winry agreed, folding her arms and glaring as Edward left her room, slamming her door behind him and making her pushpins and a few magazine cutouts on the back of her door fall to the floor.

"See ya, Aunt Pinako," Edward waved nonchalantly as he left through the den. The old woman glanced at him and waved back before turning back to a book. Edward burst out into the cool December air and groaned aloud, feeling betrayed and defensive.

"How am I going to explain this to Al?"

---

"Dad."

"God, Roy. Would it be so hard to shut the hell up for two minutes and _listen_?"

"Dad."

"I'm trying to tell you something, Roy. This not eating animals- It's immature."

"Dad."

"Not to mention expensive. You take those pills to make certain you get your protein, Roy, and they cost fucking money, Roy,"

"Dad."

"And then Scar eats all the left over meat that he cooks and it's enough that I pay him three hundred a week without him getting free meals out of the deal, too,"

"Dad, I kissed Edward Elric. I thought you might like to know."

"I- oh. Good for you, I guess."

Satisfying his father had never been one of Roy's major goals in life. The assurance that no matter what, the sonofabitch would rely on him was the prevalent approach to that relationship, and had sufficed for the last twenty years. So why Roy suddenly felt the desire to appeal to his father's already engorged sense of pride was, truthfully, beyond even him. However, this much he did know: for once, Roy and his father were of one mind on something, (or as near that asymptotic apocalypse-inducing event as had ever come, anyway) and he was content in a place of his heart that, after so many years of being ignored, thudded as though angry.

"Thanks, Dad."

---

When Roy opened his car door, Ed was already ranting.

"-Think she is, basically pitting me against my only brother, when we just started really speaking to each other again _two fucking days ago_,"

Roy pulled out of the driveway. "Hi to you, too."

"And she has the nerve to call _me_ high-strung,"

"I never would have, myself," Roy agreed sardonically.

"-When _she's_ the one all paranoid because she's finally waking up to the fact that stupid boyfriend, who never really liked her, now apparently likes her even less,"

"Is it strange that I derive a sort of sick pleasure in watching you be angry at someone that _isn't_ me? It's like I am off the hook, or I got undercharged at the gas pump, or something."

Edward broke off his tirade to look at Roy as though just noticing his presence. Despite himself, Ed's stomach flipped at the sight of Roy's exposed chest where one of his buttons had come undone and its subsequent brother had snapped off. ("Sorry," Roy apologized, "I wanted to look nice, but the button snagged on my watch on the drive over, and I didn't want to be late.")

"Hello," Edward greeted, calming a bit. Roy gave a charming smile.

"Always so contrary. The second I mention that your angry face turns me on, you put on your halo."

"What can I say? I like to keep the yelling down to a minimum on the first date. Keep a bit of mystery in the affair, and all."

"A bit late for that, I believe," Roy said slyly, remembering last week's confrontation on his doorstep, among other instances, "but thank you for the consideration."

"So where are we going, anyway?" Edward inquired hesitantly. When Roy had suggested a date night, Edward had felt it necessary to point out the impracticality of the notion when he assented. "Leave it to me," was all Roy had replied.

"Where do you think we are going?" Roy countered evasively.

Edward joked, "Adult film marathon and nachos in your basement?"

"Damn, who told you?" Roy feigned disappointment. Edward snorted.

"You know that dance Friday?" He changed the subject abruptly.

"The Winter Ball?"

"Sure," Edward agreed dismissively.

"I can't really see any way for us to…" Roy began awkwardly, suddenly tense. To his surprise, Ed barked laughter.

"Oh, hell no. Even if we _could_, I would not attend that nonsense with you in tow. I just have to go for Winry, is all."

Roy ignored the possible implications of Edward's remark and rejoined with one of his own. "Well, I'll be there, too. For Riza."

"Ms Hawkeye? She need confirmation of her suspicions of her obviously disinterested beau, also?" ("Plus twelve gay points for using the word 'beau' in a sentence," Edward's inner Winry-voice said in a singsong voice, making Edward cringe with distaste.)

"Not that I know of. Apparently, the boss asked her to ask me, though. I said I'd do it, but only because I would make her ass have low visual appeal if I declined."

"Yeah," Edward nodded.

"Maybe after we could go back to my place for pizza. Adult films." Roy suggested, and Edward laughed.

"Probably not," he declined, however. "I don't want Al to feel any more left out than necessary. Sorry."

"Oh, don't be. Maybe I could even…" Roy faltered, showing the unwonted hesitance that only Edward seemed capable of drawing for him.

"Maybe you could what?" Edward asked, curiously.

"Well, I just thought, if it was okay with you guys… Maybe I could join you that evening… Get more acquainted with Al. Since you know my Dad by now, I mean."

"And Scar," Edward added, smiling.

"Well, yes." Roy said, not taking his eyes off the road, and for once staying well within the confines of the speed limit.

"Well, that sounds fine to me, but I really don't want to attempt to try and answer for Al. I'll definitely ask him though."

"Okay," Roy answered without looking at Edward, not having received the exact answer he had hoped for. Edward noticed his boyfriend's unease and wished to quell his unnecessary misgivings, but was not used to comforting others.

"I'm sure he'll say yes, and all," Edward attempted. Knowing the remark had done nothing, he uncertainly took Roy's right hand from off the steering wheel and into his smaller hands. "I just want him to be able to come into the decision on his own, is all."

Roy gave a small smile. "Somehow," he said, "I feel like I just became the girl in this relationship."

"Christ, don't even _say_ that," Edward pretended to gag.

"What, you want to assume the role of female?" Roy asked, amused.

"Uh, no. The point is sort of that _neither_ of us are."

"Not that I don't appreciate fifty percent of the population automatically being disqualified from competition based on gender," Roy began, "but I still am pretty surprised you don't like women at all. You aren't, you know, gay."

Edward wrinkled his nose. "I may not obsess over my nails, but that doesn't mean I am attracted to anything with breasts. Girls are just… ew to me. Especially in consideration of intercourse."

Roy smirked. "Heterophobe."

Ed snorted. "Only in regards to myself. And you, for that matter."

Roy did not reply, except to pull the gearshift to P, which in an ideal world would stand for Panda, or in a slightly-less ideal world would abbreviate Pikachu, but is actually just short for Park.

"We're here," Roy announced.

---

Another Sunday evening. A cup of warm beer and some rap music that she pretends to love. "Mindless, soulless drabble," her inner-Edward sneers. A few girls are dancing in a sort of travesty of sensual lesbianism; Winry is forcibly reminded of hamburgers crushing into each other repeatedly.

"You gonna finish that?" A 'friend' of hers called Frannie Donaldson asks, indicating Winry's beverage.

Another goddamn Sunday evening.

Winry shrugs off the fellow Freshman and steps closer to her boyfriend.

"No, way," he is arguing with a college friend of the host's, whom had kindly provided the alcohol for the occasion. "Tony McLean ain't got half Richardson's arm."

"But the man runs like a _beast_," his opponent counters.

"Dude, have you _seen_ him lately? Since that knee injury, he's been slower'n-,"

Winry lost interest.

"I'm going outside for some air," she tells Havoc, hoping against hope he will protest.

"Sure thing, babe." He waves her off. She's noticed that he only ever calls her this anymore when he is drunk.

Outside is not much of an alternative to inside. The front porch is littered with couples and triples giving in to their raging hormones, heedless of the chic suburban environment around them. The lawn, she soon discovers, is no better; Winry climbs over half a dozen partially-clothed bodies only to encounter another pair of somewhat less than partially-clothed ones playing around in the shrubbery.

"Ooh, sorry, I mean, to interrupt, er, don't mind…" Winry mumbles, stumbling down the frozen walk, suddenly a good bit more tipsy than she had any knowledge or recollection of becoming.

Why the hell was she even _there_, anyway? It wasn't for the friends; she barely knew anyone present save Frannie and her clique, none of whom Winry could honestly admit to liking, let alone talking to on a regular basis. It was not for the beer; as far as Winry was concerned, entertainment was a very there or not factor, and no mind-altering substance could produce what was so starkly absent in the first place. It certainly wasn't the _music_, and Havoc had not asked her to dance all evening.

There was her answer though, was it not? Havoc? Havoc. This was his scene: the recklessly sensual, the helplessly intoxicated, the strictly string-less. Once, Winry had worn translucent blouses and glittery lip gloss and craved this sort of detached maturity. She desired wild child status, now that her tomboyish charms had ceased to promote the same appeal with her male peers. Now, what she really wanted was an old velvet couch in her own living room with her friend of her entire life save the few months she was born ahead of him- God, how she wished Alphonse were here.

Or rather, she decided, as the first wave of nausea hit, how she wished _she_ were _not_.

Glass shattered, and the entire outdoors-half of the crowd, including Winry, basked in sudden clear-headedness as they observed a broken front window, a football wobbling in its resting place conspicuously amongst the rubble.

The music thudded before someone had the sense to mute it. And then, when Winry wondered if there would ever be any noise again, a peel of laughter rose from within the house, and Winry held the vision of Jean Havoc, holding his sides as he bellowed amusement, his friend the host finally coming to his senses.

"Dude, what the _fuck_?!" was the unfortunate boy's pitiful screech.

Havoc pays no mind, only continues to laugh uproariously.

_Well_, Winry scoffs, hugging her too-light sweater to her goose-bumpy arms, _at least _he's_ enjoying himself._

---

Laughter. Like wind chimes, like bells, like glasses toasting in celebration, like-

Fuery shook himself. Focus, man! The girl is laughing! _With_ you! Not running away, but _laughing_!

-music box tunes, like babbling brooks, like a thousand tiny faeries singing, like, wait. What?

Kain Fuery was not notable for his masculinity, but there was a line even he could not cross.

"So," Rosé commented, regaining composure, "What about computer games? Which of those do you play?"

"Er," Fuery cleared his throat. Their discussion about particular mainstream platform titles had gone smoothly, but he did not want to assume that the geekdom could be shared above and beyond what could still overlap with the realm of the norm. "Just a bunch of, you know, sort of indie stuff that I don't guess you've ever…"

Smirk. She was smirking. At him. She. Was. Smirking. At… Fuery felt his dormant teenage libido surge.

"Try me." She advised.

The lecherous part of Fuery that he had never met before that moment concurred, privately, that indeed, he would like to try her very much in deed, if you know what he meant. And to that inner lecher's consternation, the greater majority of Kain Fuery's body began to react in the single most embarrassing manner achievable.

Rosé grinned like a cat who had cornered a mouse. "Are you… blushing?"

---

Alphonse gave a disgruntled noise as he finished another chapter in the book, and threw the item away carelessly. He had pushed himself throughout the text, just a few more pages, just make yourself read the rest of this scene, just this chapter… All to try and occupy himself while his brother was away.

It was not that he was jealous. Not entirely, anyway. He was happy for his brother, who had deferred most social relationships for Al's sake. And after seeing him pine hopelessly for Roy, and then finally see his attentions reciprocated… Yes, Al was most decidedly happy for his brother. At the same time, the abandonment was an insect bite of an annoyance. Tiny and unimportant, but pervasive, and unrelentingly demanding of attention. Friday nights had once been the evening that Ed and Al would head over to the Rockbell's and have dinner and whatever delightful desert Pinako had most recently concocted. Afterwards, Winry, Al, and Edward would compete in a video game tournament, or else watch an anime marathon, or something equally mind-numbingly unproductive. If these were not Alphonse's happiest memories, than the evenings that Winry came over to _their_ house were. These evenings, unhindered by adult presence, were all about talk. Sometimes light and gossipy, sometimes deep and in their middle school way philosophical, sometimes awkward with a recent argument, but always them together.

Almost half a year ago though, during the summer, Friday nights had started becoming less and less frequently found in the same company. Winry had found a boyfriend, which though not unheard of, had been rare in the seriousness with which she persisted in being involved with Jean Havoc. The fact that Winry had romantic inclinations had been a hard enough blow for Al to endure, but to learn that they were interfering with _their_ friendship was worse yet. Yet he persevered, and spent more time with his brother, who was, if not Winry's flamboyant shrieking joy, a sardonic, witty sort of companion. Al himself was quiet and demure normally, but his more sociable side could occasionally come into play where these two were involved; make him come out of his shell, and say something particularly clever to bolster his self-confidence. And his brother and adoptive-sister _knew_ how much that meant to him, in their way. When else could Al make a jab at someone's slight incompetence, someone else's ridiculousness, or his own bum legs, if not on a Friday evening? Yet Winry left. And now his brother. His blood sibling. His last, truest ally. His best friend.

It was not that he was jealous, really.

It was more that he was lost.

---

"Hey! Cool! The middle of nowhere!" Edward cheered, stepping out into the surprisingly warm (especially after such a cool day) dusky evening from the car. The statement was true, or at least, true enough at first glance. Roy had pulled off the highway, Edward noticing ridiculous amounts of traffic ahead and expecting something of grander scale than the gravelly emergency lane. Roy rolled his eyes at Edward.

"You don't know the half of cool yet, Buddy. Just wait 'til I get the paralysis drug cocktail and honey out. Then it's a real party." He went to the trunk of the car and Edward stood by his door with his arms crossed.

"What's the honey for?" He had already riddled the paralysis part out on his own. Roy gave a feral grin in response.

"You're disturbing." Edward shook his head, smiling.

"You're sweet enough on your own without any extraneous foodstuffs, after all," Roy quipped, grabbing a bundle that Edward could not properly see in the twilight and closing the trunk. He set off into the adjacent line of trees, and Edward blinked before deciding to follow.

"Er, hey," Edward called once he also was within the forest. "You could have warned me to bring insect repellant."

"'Thought about it, but decided you'd ultimately drown yourself in a single spray, making my chances of getting any tonight nil." Roy called without pausing.

"I think you may want to consider the fact that your terribly unfunny height insults are having pretty much the exact same effect."

"You're drowning? Need CPR?"

"Oh, nice one. Welcome to high school."

"Maybe I was talking about chest compressions."

"Maybe you were talking about- good lord, how long are we going to be walking?"

"Little legs of yours getting tired?"

"No, I'm just worried about an old man like you keeping up his stamina."

"I run five miles a day. I think I can handle a little off-trail hiking."

"I… Do you really?"

"What, you don't think I can make it? Wanna race?"

"No, you idiot." Edward decided to catch up with Roy. He had kept the banter up to distract himself, but it was growing steadily darker and Edward was becoming increasingly more anxious. He jogged a bit and Roy would never have owned up to it, but he slowed considerably in order to let Edward feel as though his strides weren't quite so miniscule in comparison with his own. As he caught up to Roy, he noticed that the unidentified bundle from before was actually a large picnic basket, but Edward chose not to comment, knowing that it could contain practically anything, considering who packed it. "I mean, do you really run five miles a day?"

"Most days," Roy replied. "Unless I feel like hell that morning, or I wake up late. Usually in case of the latter, then both."

"That's pretty intense. You're pretty crazy about health stuff. Kind of makes me feel inept in the taking care of myself department."

"You're different. You're still growing. You can eat all day long without taking a break and lose weight. My metabolism is different."

"Ha!" Edward crowed. "Admitting to your old age!"

Suddenly, Roy regretted ever trying to make Edward's height disadvantage easier on him, even if was only the one time.

---

Fuery and Rosé were bent over their milkshakes, gesticulating wildly.

"But on level fourteen, there _is_ no door! You _have_ to fight." Rosé argued, stabbing a pink-nailed finger onto the tabletop for emphasis. Fuery grinned superiorly; and awkward gesture for someone so used to keeping stalwartly in the shadows.

"Remember the goggles that Marko gave you in the beginning of level two?"

"The ones you never use and so you sell on the market for, like, five hundred thousand coins?"

"Those."

"…Oh."

Fuery found himself shining on his own.

---

"C'mon, Win…" Havoc tugged at her sweater, and Winry, despite herself, giggled.

"Don't you think we should be getting out of here? With the window, I mean?"

"Nah. Look, everyone's distracted; we could just find a corner somewhere, just you and me…"

"And…?"

"No ands. Just you." He stepped in very close. "And me."

"No," Winry explained breathily, barely remembering what she was saying. "I mean, to what end?"

"Oh, I don't know," he replied with a warm smile that at the same time was not overly sensual. "I just thought we'd start with something like _this_," he swooped down and captured her lips just once, and they both smiled into the simple, romantic gesture, in spite of its briefness (or perhaps because of that), "and then just let the chips fall where they may."

"Mm," Winry hummed, twining her arms around his neck and letting a content smile adorn her lips ever-so-slightly. And then she blinked. "I mean no! I mean, we can't just… _I_ can't just…"

Havoc broke her off with another kiss, this one lingering. "Relax. We won't do anything you don't want to. Promise." Her consternation evaporated, and she thought to herself calmly, _he's drunk_. And then she thought, _and who's to say I am not_?

The logic was not infallible, but it was close enough. She allowed herself to be tugged into a nearby closet, and the rampaging teenagers, eager to get away from the devastation of glass, never noticed them.

---

And then they were gliding.

Rosé was not a first time skater, but nor was she terribly good at it. Fuery hadn't much skill himself, but even he had to cringe at her tendency to skate in a straight line into the metal piping constituting a fence enclosing the rink rather than in the circular path of the other skaters. He remained encouraging and did not comment, however, until she managed to take out two little girls with her in a magnificent clatter downwards the like of which had rarely been seen and has not been quite reproduced since. Miraculously, the children were merely annoyed, and it turned out to be Rosé who was sniffling tears of regret.

"Maybe we should try something else…" She suggested from the floor, using the guardrails to begin the slow, awkward process of trying to stand in her skates. Fuery was about to relent, but the night had made him bold, and besides which, he did not want her to look back upon any part of their first date with chagrin.

"Take my hand," he instructed nervously. She could well refuse and skate away forever, after all. But she only sniffled and placed her palm in his. He did not have time to notice that her hand and his were the exact same size, of all things, because they were moving again, in slow, but languid motion.

"We just passed the ramp," Rosé informed him, referring to the rink's exit. He did not respond, only continued to hold her hand, which steadied her tenfold already.

"This isn't so bad, is it? We can just skate like this for a while… I-if you want."

Rosé smiled to herself. If this was all it took to get this boy to come out of his shell, well, she could endure having to wear those confounded bladed contraptions one-hundred times over.

---

It was dark, and cold, and up until recently it had also been silent. Edward and Roy had been walking for the past quarter of an hour, sometimes absorbed in their own thoughts, and others filling the space between them with the normal witty repartee they were accustomed to sharing. But now in one of those lulls in conversation, Edward found that he could hear a crowd in the distance; a sort of indistinct murmur of voices that sounded like a single note of anticipant thrill, nearly vicious in its own right. The mood was infectious.

"I hear people," Edward said, overly casually.

"No idea what they're doing here. Must be my rabid fan base, here to tear you limb from limb."

"Tear _me_ limb from limb?"

"For robbing them of their hope. My lack of romantic involvement was, to many, a beacon of optimism in an endless sea of night. You broke their beacon."

"I'm liable to break something else if someone's ego doesn't mind itself."

"You find my arrogance charming."

Edward frowned as he navigated around a barbed vine that seemed to entangle many of the trees, which had grown considerably denser since they left the car. "What makes you say this?"

"The fact that you're here with me now, in the thick of the middle-of-nowhere."

"Can't really turn around," Edward muttered, tugging at his captive pant leg. "Not like I'd know where the hell I was going."

Roy paused, realizing he had wandered a bit ahead of Edward. Ed was still attempting to free his foot from a low tangle of weeds.

"Not like you could turn around even if you did," Roy commented, smiling. He watched as Edward precariously extricated himself from the mess of brushes and limbs and stems and turned around. There, finally, the forest's thickly populated middle stretched out for another fifteen feet, followed by thirty yards of thinning tree line. Evening had fallen completely, and as soon as they were out in the open once more, Edward saw stars littering the December sky. They were on hilltop which overlooked a precarious cliff and then a deep, immediate valley, in the middle of which was some sort of proscenium arena.

"What's all this?" Edward asked. "How do we get down there?"

"It's part of the surprise," Roy answered, setting down the basket, "And we don't. We stay up here. Sort of our own private gallery seating, if you will."

Edward smiled, relieved to be avoiding the large amounts of social interaction he heard below him, and amused that Roy would have had the foresight to arrange it so that despite a perhaps secondhand experience observing whatever was going to be on that stage, Edward was still comfortable.

"And before you start, actually, I really _did_ have to go through all this trouble for you, because I didn't want you squalling like a banshee over not being able to see down there, so the only way to keep my sanity was to find an alternative."

"And the candlelight dinner?" Roy had pulled out a white linen tablecloth and a candelabra that held a few ivory candlesticks, and soon after that some expensive looking china.

"I have refined tastes. Satisfying my own selfish needs."

"Well, glad to hear you went absolutely nowhere out of your way more than absolutely totally necessary to make me happy." Edward said with a grin, sitting to join Roy on the spread-out cloth. To this, Roy simply held out the first item of food to be drawn from the basket, which Edward was amused to recognize as a peanut butter and jelly sandwich devoid of crusts and cut diagonally. It was sweet, in a bizarre way.

"Bon appetite." Roy blessed solemnly.

A sudden shrill squeal arose from the crowd, and Edward was more pleased than ever that he was above the salivating masses, not lost within them. A sudden intense chord sounded from the speakers, even though the thick dark curtains surrounding the stage had yet to draw.

---

"Shame about the party," Winry said, swinging her and Havoc's entwined fingers merrily. "I thought is was just starting to shape up into something enjoyable."

"Did you now?" Havoc said absently, and Winry's smile disintegrated. She'd lost him, again.

"Hey, in there? Still awake?" She said anyway, desperation making her prevail for normalcy.

"Of course I'm awake," He snapped and tried to withdraw his hand from hers, but Winry stubbornly held on, and with pursed lips he relented.

"Or some form thereof, maybe. Drunk as hell." She muttered bitterly, and Havoc really did remove his hand this time.

"Why do you always do this, Winry?"

"Why do _I_ always do this? You're the one who-,"

"You know what?" Havoc interrupted. "Forget it. Do you want me to take you home now or what?"

"No." Winry said petulantly.

"Fine. Where do you want to go, then?"

"Take me to a bar."

"No."

"You asked me where I wanted to go,"

"And I'm saying pick somewhere else."

"You go all the time with your friends. Afraid you'll run into someone you don't want me to meet?"

"I'm not cheating on you, if that's what you're insinuating. I just think, no, I _know_ that that's a very bad idea. Your alcohol tolerance is extraordinarily low."

"And yours isn't? Look at you!" They had stopped on the sidewalk by now and were facing each other, arguing with windmill arms.

"I'm obviously not half as drunk as you think I am if I won't take you to a goddamned bar, which I won't, so pick somewhere else already!" Havoc rarely lost his temper, and never with girls. He was always respectful, if flirtatious. Winry, however, just didn't know when to _quit_. "You're such a fucking _child_." He continued his thoughts aloud, and Winry gaped at him, too livid to speak. "God, I go out with you to _get away from_ my bratty kid sister, not to _take her to dinner_. What I get for dating a Freshman. What I get for thinking you'd be mature enough to deal with my life. What I fucking _get_,"

"Will you stop feeling sorry for yourself, already?" It was Winry's voice that said it, but the words tasted like Edward's. "We all have problems, okay? Maybe I go out with you to get away from _my_ moody best friend and quiet house and monotonous life and maybe I think it's a little unfair if you keep spoiling that for me. What happened to you? You used to be so much fun…" The speech ended on a sad, bemused note; Winry lifted a hand to her boyfriend's face, only to let it drop just before it made contact. "Come on," she finally said, when neither of them knew how to break the silence. "Let's go get some ice cream."

---

_Whenever I'm alone with you  
You make me feel like I am whole again._

The music swarmed around them, and Edward had to blink repeatedly to try to clear his head. It all felt like a dream, from someone else's life. Someone who wasn't a disillusioned genius. Someone who didn't live alone with his kid brother. Someone who wasn't a virtual pariah at school. Someone who wasn't Edward.

And then Roy began singing to him softly, in a voice deeper than Edward expected.

_Whenever I'm alone with you  
You make me feel like I am young again.  
Whenever I'm alone with you  
You make me feel like I am fun again._

His singing voice was not perfect, but it was surprisingly nice. Edward closed his eyes and leaned back into his boyfriend's arms without expression.

Roy rubbed small circles on Edward's stomach, and Edward let a ghost of a smile interrupt his serene appearance. Roy broke off singing as the chorus hit, and Edward wondered vaguely if it had anything to do with the usage of a certain proclamation within the lyrics. Roy did not retreat from their casual snuggling, however, and instead lifted one of his hands to Edward's jaw to tilt it in Roy's direction. Edward fought to open his eyes, and was only half-successful. They kissed.

Something clicked.

The kiss was fierce. Roy and Edward were grappling on the blanket, pulling each other as close as possible, unnoticed by the crowds at their feet.

"Roy," Edward said quietly, as he found himself pinned beneath the older man.

"Happy Birthday, Edward."

No more words were spoken.

---

Riza checked her e-mail despondently. How was it that she, twenty-six, petite, and fairly attractive, as well as clearly _intellectually_ competent (at least, with the exception of in regards to a certain towheaded nicotine addict), was _alone_ on a Sunday evening? It was not so much that Sundays were renowned for their traditional social interaction, so much as it was yet another point on a line of nights without any company. As her messages came up, however, she was surprised to see an inbox message from Roy Mustang, whom she had not expected to reply to her inquiry until the following school day.

_Riza,_ he wrote, _I'd be happy to help out. Well, more to the point, I'd be happy to retain my employment. Sorry Bradley put you up to that. If it's any consolation, Maes Hughes and I were considering egging his car during the dance, anyway. It'll be good to have a cover to explain why I'm on premises should my ninja camouflage skills fail me. Which they never will. But still._

_Sincerely,_

_Roy Mustang, Teacher Extraordinaire/Ninja First Class_

Riza snorted. She found his unorthodox style of address not so much refreshing as immature, but she appreciated his sense of humour, all the same. It was good, Riza realized, as she shut her laptop and went into her apartment's kitchen in her stocking feet to make a cup of hot cocoa, to finally have an ally.

---

Fuery walked Rosé to her doorstep.

"I had I really nice time tonight, Kain." This time when she said his name, she didn't even flinch.

"I did, too." This time when he replied to her, he didn't even stutter.

"I would like to see you again sometime, I think." She confessed, smiling down at him. He blinked away from eye contact, suddenly nervous despite the encouragement.

"Well, my school is having a dance this Friday… It's going to be stupid, I guess, but, you know, my friends are all going, and I thought it might be cool if you could come and meet some of them, I mean, you've already met Edward, but…" He shut up, recalling that perhaps the circumstances under which Rosé met Edward (or rather, the ones that followed directly _after _meeting him) weren't the best to bring up.

"That sounds fun!" Rosé said. Truthfully, it sounded fairly dull, but he had made such an effort to invite her, and he was just so sweet when he was so bashful…

"I, uhm, does it?" He asked, relieved.

"It sure does. All right, I have the perfect dress and everything. Hey, listen, I'll call you tomorrow, okay? It's cold out here!" She laughed, and he grinned also. With a warm embrace, wherein she rested her forehead on his for the briefest of moments, Rosé went inside, and Fuery was left to float down the walk.

---

Havoc walked Winry to her doorstep.

"Well, here we are." Winry announced unnecessarily. "You gonna be okay to get home?"

"Yeah, I'm definitely not as sloshed as you think." He answered off-handedly. Winry wrinkled her nose, annoyed at his euphemism for reasons she couldn't begin to explain.

"And your car?"

"I'll swing by and get it tomorrow. It should be fine for the night."

"Okay."

Havoc nodded. "Okay. Well."

They kissed, more out of ceremony than anything. They heard an exaggerated cough behind the door, and broke apart laughing, despite themselves.

"See you tomorrow, then," she said.

"Yeah," he answered. "See you."

---

Roy walked Edward to his doorstep.

"Do I have to go?" Edward whined. Roy smirked.

"Let's not act our height, now."

"Made no sense, but thanks for playing,"

"Sorry, looking downwards like this has my blood rushing to the wrong parts of my brain."

"You keep trying, and it keeps falling short of your usual standard."

"Well, I don't know about that, but I'll trust your judgment; you're the expert on short."

"Oh God. Walked right into that one."

"Like a brick wall," Roy confirmed.

"So, you gonna kiss me now or what?"

"Getting a bit demanding now, aren't you?"

"Actually, I'm just freezing my ass off, but we could pretend it was your idea if it flatters your vanity better."

"Deal." Roy leaned in and kissed Edward quickly, wary of the neighbours. "Goodnight."

Edward squeezed Roy's hand briefly with his. "Yes," he agreed, "it was."

Roy smiled and walked away, and despite the cold, Edward watched him get into his car and rive until he could no longer see Roy's car before turning inside himself.

---

The next day was Monday of the final week before break, and the atmosphere was jovial.

Edward and Winry grinned to see each other in the school's main lobby in the morning before first bell, and all arguments were forgotten, or at least set to the side.

"How'd your date go?" They asked each other at the same time, and then collapsed into giggles, happy to be in their respective relationships, happy to be friends, and just in genuine glad of life.

"Hey, guys," Fuery greeted a moment later, and they welcomed the addition to their twosome giddily.

"What happened to your cheek?" Winry enquired rapturously, expecting a tale of dashing combative to accompany a dark bruise on his cheekbone.

"Went ice-skating with my clumsy girlfriend." He said, grinning, and Edward beamed.

"You and Rosé, huh?"

"Who's Rosie?!" Winry pried, jumping up and seizing Fuery's arm. "Does this mean we get another girl in the group?!"

"You have Edward," Roy commented, passing through at a convenient moment. "What more of a girl do you need?"

"One without a penis, preferably," Winry said brightly. "Morning, Mr Mustang!"

"Good morning to you, Winry, Kain. Edward."

"Good morning, sir." Fuery smiled politely.

"Hi," Edward said meekly, suddenly shy in front of Winry.

"Hi." Roy replied, smirking as per the usual. Edward's stomach commenced Irish step dancing. Even though Ireland doesn't exist in FMAverse. But you get the analogy.

"We were just discussing our weekends, Mr Mustang." Winry said slyly.

"Were you, indeed?" Mustang replied, eyebrows raised. "And the general consensus?"

"Extremely satisfied, if the fact that Fuery is grinning like an idiot over his mangled face and Edward almost _hugged_ me earlier are any indications." Winry replied brightly.

"Did not," Edward squeaked, turning red, and Fuery just laughed.

"It was your birthday this weekend, was it not, Edward?"

"Yes, sir." Ed replied demurely.

"And I trust it went well?"

"Yes, sir."

"How about yourself, sir?" Winry continued.

"My weekend was…" He paused and met Edward's eye. "Probably the best I've had in my life, actually."

Winry's eyes grew big, and had Edward been paying attention, he would have known that Winry was withholding the world's most shrill squeal of girlish delight in the history of squeals of girlish delight. As it was, he was still making eye contact with Roy, and melting into a puddle of Edward besides. Winry saw the danger, and decided to rescue her friend.

"Is that so?" She interrupted the private moment, which Fuery had started to become suspicious of.

"Yes," Mustang recovered himself, "Even if it did seem a bit _short_."

Without further ado he swept off to room 207.

"What'd he want?" Breda, newly present upon the scene with Havoc in tow, asked at large.

"Just to ask us about our weekends," Winry explained with sweet temperament. "His seems to have gone very well."

"How so?"

"He was practically glowing," Fuery smiled. "If you'll excuse the cliché."

"Guess _somebody_ got laid," Havoc suggested.

There was a pause of dead silence in which Edward turned beet red.

Winry burst into laughter loud enough to make people turn and stare.

Everyone in the group gaped at Winry, who continued to howl.

"What did I _say_?" Havoc asked aside to the rest of the group, and it was all Edward could do to look bemused as the rest of them.

---

"You know, there's a rumour going around," Hughes greeted Roy in room 207 after school the next day, when the latter's noticeable elation had yet to dissipate.

"There usually is." Roy said with a wave of his hand that was meant to impart that whatever the rumour, it had no possible bearing upon his relationship and therefore the world went round swimmingly.

"They're saying you hooked up with Hawkeye, and that you're going to the dance together." Hughes sat down on the corner of Roy's desk.

"Well, we are both going to the dance, but not together."

"Mhm."

"Hey, I'm serious. I'm happily taken, thank you."

"So I guessed. You and the Elric boy?"

Roy stood up and stretched before loosening his necktie and unbuttoning his top shirt buttons. "Depends on how much lecture I get if I say yes."

"None, but I don't know if I can promise the same on the I-Told-You-Sos."

Roy grinned. "I took him to a concert last night…"

"Kind of, er, _public_, don't you think?"

"I took him to The Hill, and it was just us with the music and the stars…"

"Hey, I'd forgotten all about The Hill…"

"And he was just so damn pretty, sprawled underneath me like that…"

"I'm not _pretty_." Edward interrupted the monologue gruffly from the doorway, blushing crimson.

"You're absolutely right, you're beautiful." Roy grabbed Edward by the waist and dropped him unceremoniously to sit upon the desk across from where Hughes remained perched.

"Afternoon, Ed!" Hughes said good-naturedly.

"Afternoon, Mr Hughes." Edward muttered in some debased form of humiliation.

"How's it going?"

"Swell." Edward said darkly as Roy put his arms about Edward's waist and pinned his hands to his stomach. Both men laughed.

"Yeah, looks like Hawkeye's got nothing on you," Hughes said, eyes twinkling.

"Huh?" Edward asked, turning his head to look at his captor in confusion and then becoming dazed when he suddenly inhaled an overwhelming amount of Roy's scent.

Hughes chuckled. "We'll talk more later, Roy. Coming by for dinner soon?"

"Mhmm…" Roy's nose was buried in Edward's hair, and Edward was still glass-eyed with something that quite possibly could have been lust.

"Hey," Hughes continued, heedless of the lack of attention he was receiving, brightening. "You should bring Ed along. Gracia would love another mouth to feed, and I can show you my albums of my little girl!"

"I- uh- sure," Edward agreed, not breaking from his trance.

"Sometime during break we'll drop by," Roy answered Hughes, sounding a little distracted himself. Hughes grinned.

"I have your word, then. Okay, boys. Daddy's off. Play nicely, and be safe."

"'Bye, Dad," Roy called as Hughes closed the door behind him, and then after a moment's hesitation used the school skeleton key to lock it.

"So," Roy said, hearing the lock click and blessing his best friend to the throne of Heaven, "Stop by for any reason in particular?"

"Mostly just to say bye before I went home," Edward murmured, eyes closed as Roy's head bent into the crook of his neck. Yesterday he had stopped by also, and he felt it understood now that they were together that Edward would from now on be checking in routinely.

"Mhm. And were you in any particular rush to _get_ home?" He kissed Edward's shoulder.

"Not real… Not particularly."

"Interesting." He twisted Edward's body so that it faced him with minimal effort and kissed him soundly. Edward responded readily.

"On second thought, maybe this isn't such a great idea," Roy laughed. "Easy to get carried away."

Edward didn't seem to be listening, or if he was, he didn't seem to agree. Roy felt Edward's tongue trace the contours of what chest had been revealed when Roy had unbuttoned earlier.

"Oh." Roy said, at a loss. Edward's hands came up and finished the job on his shirt that Roy had started. There was a pause in which Roy fell heavily into his chair, away from Edward, and their eyes locked.

_Don't let this get too far,_ Roy warned nonverbally. _I won't be able to stop._

_We _won't _go too far. I trust you._

---

Wednesday came, and Edward needed a new dress shirt for his tux. Luckily, when he had tried it on Sunday afternoon, the damned thing had still fit, except the shirt had a juice stain that no amount of bleach could save. The last time he had worn it was for Winry's cousin's wedding a year previous, which he had been invited to because of having had met the cousin on sundry occasions as well as the reception afterwards was to be held at Pinako's house. He had not enjoyed purchasing the abomination, thinking he'd never don the heinous garb again so long as he lived. He was wrong.

So Winry and he made a trip to the same shop that had supplied Winry with the blue dress that Al had found so enrapturing, and discussed their relationships while they ate ice cream afterwards.

"So did you have sex with him?" Edward asked before shoving a spoonful of chocolate chip into his face. Winry licked her rocky road cone thoughtfully.

"No," she said, "but I might."

"I don't think that would be in your best interests." Edward said guardedly. Winry shrugged.

"It doesn't have to mean anything. Maybe it won't even be actual sex. Maybe I'll just blow him, or something. Just something to keep him interested."

On the word "blow," Edward choked on his ice cream, scandalized. "Winry. You need help. Seriously."

"That's what you're here for, right? And Friday, too?"

"No." Edward said, leaning back in the wrought iron food-court chair and shaking his head. "I mean, like, professional help. Wanton sex at the age of fifteen is evident of some serious psychological complex."

"Oh, don't be a hypocrite."

"How am I being hypocritical?"

"'Wanton sex'? You and Mustang?"

"No wanton sex involved. At all."

"Uh huh."

"None. I'm serious."

"I suppose you're going to tell me you're in love with him, therefore it's all completely meaningful and B.S."

"No. Well, maybe we're in love or something, I, er, but there's no sex."

"I find that difficult to believe."

"Believe it. We aren't like that."

"For how long?"

"Until I'm ready."

"And when is that?"

"I don't know," admitted Edward. "Sometimes, I get scared thinking about it. Sometimes, there's nothing I want more."

"Maybe," Winry said, and then paused.

"Maybe?"

"Maybe you _are_ in love with him."

---

Thursday found the trio together again, in a rare moment of pleasant fraternal bonding. Edward sat on the couch with Al's feet in his lap, and Winry put her back against the couch and sat on the floor. They were watching a movie, but no one's mind was on it.

The main character was called Sound, and she was a princess who lived in the largest of the Seven Kingdoms, until she was trapped and put away in a crystal ball at the center of a frozen ocean by an angry witch.

Alphonse's thoughts started with the princess, and her straight brown, and how if his moth had had a female child, it would have most certainly looked a great deal like her. Then he wondered, if he had had a sister, what would Winry be to them? Would they have still latched on to Winry as their own family member? Would the presence of a female prevented the inclusion of Winry into their brotherhood, and thus prohibited the formation of familial bonds between him and herself, allowing a smoother transition to a romantic relationship? Or would they just never have become friends at all? Or would she have chosen the sister as her favourite, and only been able to see the boys as extraneous annoyances? What if the car crash had killed Edward too, and then it was just his sister and her best friend Winry who fell in love with him? What if the car crash had never taken place, and that sister of his had introduced him to her best friend Winry and he _walked up to her and kissed her full on the lips_… God, Alphonse wished he could kiss Winry.

The rescuer was an elf named Ryan. His clan had a long grudge against the witch, and by conquering her he inadvertently freed the princess, whom he hated at first sight.

Winry hated her, too. She was pretty and polite and perfect, and had no personality. She much preferred Ryan, who was gentlemanly yet clearly had disdain for vapidity, and who cared more about his family than about the princess. He reminded her of Havoc. And someone else. Someone she couldn't quite think of. She wished that the Elf Prince would come into her life so she wouldn't have to worry about her stupid relationship with her stupid boyfriend anymore.

The princess told the elf to take her back to her kingdom, but he only would do so if she promised that she and her kind would never speak to the elves so long as she lived, for if she wasn't the most annoying wench he'd ever encountered he knew not who was.

Edward thought about the ice. He thought about how it had been snowing when he had arrived on Roy's doorstep, and confronted him. And thinking back, Roy had every right to close that door in his face. But he had taken Edward in. Roy was caring and sweet and passionate. Edward was not one to be coy about these situations. He knew he was in love with Roy. Hell, hadn't he even said the words to him explicitly that night? Even if they were unthinkingly uttered in the fury of desperation, they had been sincere. Edward thought about how there was no turning back, how Roy was the only person he'd ever love, period. Edward thought about the ice. And he thought about being trapped. Edward wished that Roy were, at least, just as trapped in love as he was.

The elf took the princess back to her kingdom, but they had fallen in love. And yet, an oath was an oath, and they had sworn to never speak again, and sometimes, laws hold words in place and you can't take them back no matter how hard you hope. The moral of the movie was to be careful what you wished for.

---

The Winter Ball came. The cafeteria was decorated elegantly, and the lobby was littered with tables and chairs and punch bowls. Roy and Riza stood off to the side, making conversation.

"It was wonderful of you to help out, Roy,"

"It was really no problem, Riza."

Fuery and Rosé were among the first students to arrive. He wore a black suit and shirt and silver tie that matched her silver dress. Fuery felt a little embarrassed for having been so punctual, but Rosé was chatty, and seemed not to notice the absence of masses of people. The DJ soon came by and set up, and they managed to speak to him briefly.

"Just as long as you don't play any country, we're good." Rosé instructed. The DJ nodded solemnly.

"Duly noted," he said, and put on instead a swing album. Fuery grinned like a cat, which startled Rosé.

"Don't tell me."

"It's easy."

"You arranged this, didn't you?"

"Come on."

And then they were dancing.

Meanwhile, Edward had shown up, and was feeling particularly awkward without Winry to latch onto. He saw Roy in the corner, but sensed that going to a dance and then interacting with the chaperones was a bit suspicious, so he stuck by the tables, and grabbed a bag of chips, and waited.

Winry and Havoc made it onto the scene, and Winry was already annoyed, because her dress in no way, shape, or form matched Havoc's burgundy shirt. It was all right, though. These things happen, she told herself. As long as there is dancing involved shortly, no one will think that we didn't come together, or something.

Rosé had already fallen twice, but she and Fuery were grinning broadly as they attempted intricate maneuvers that Fuery had learned and perfected and forgot at summer camp two years ago.

Other couples were arriving, and the cafeteria was getting more crowded.

Havoc and Winry danced when an upbeat modern song came on, but soon afterwards Havoc drifted out to the lobby and found Edward and Winry had no choice but to smile and tag along. Edward observed as best he could. Yes, they seemed sort of distant, but did Havoc seem like he was in love with any other girl? No. Havoc was no more affectionate to any single person than he was to Winry. It seemed more of a general detachment than anything, and Edward told Winry so when Havoc went out to smoke.

Havoc passed Heymans on the way in, who had brought a surprise date of Scieszka, whom he had met recently at a chess competition. Neither felt like dancing, nor was there any romantic spark between them to condone such behavior, but enjoying being on someone's arm for the evening was of mutual benefit, and, if nothing else, free food was always a plus.

They chatted with Havoc and then moved on, passing the eagerly dancing Fuery, and the now more-comfortable Rosé. They made a handsome dancing couple, now that it was mentioned, and the longer the night went, the more carefree and risqué their dancing became, and it was soon obvious that Kain Fuery was a natural, and even if his partner wasn't, she was naturally fit to _him_.

Back with the adults, who pointed and laughed and admired and felt vaguely nostalgic for youth. Roy glimpsed Edward several times, and was completely taken with the vision of his young boyfriend in formal wear. It was very matrimonial imagery, and it made Roy a bit weak in the knees, to be honest. Riza was his saving grace, distracting him with her strictness and at times glimpses of a wry sense of humour. With her at his side, he was safely able to concentrate on something _other_ than Edward, and stare into the sea of gyrating youth before him.

Edward got bored.

"Would you like to dance?" He asked Winry, who was sulking, but pretending to smile at something Heymans was saying.

"Uhm." Not really. "You don't dance."

"I do tonight."

"I…" Don't want to.

"Beats hanging around here, waiting for your _boyfriend_."

Something about the way Edward pronounced Havoc's title inspired Winry. She got up and joined him on the dance floor, and soon they were grinding to the music just like everyone else. Winry smiled to herself, realizing that this was perhaps the only boy in the world she could dance like this with and still feel completely platonic about.

Past Fuery and Rosé again, and then around Riku and Sora (Hey! Back to your own fandom!), Roy was watching Edward. Perhaps watching is the wrong term.

"Stop leering at that boy," Riza advised, barely concealing a smirk.

"I, er…" Roy said awkwardly, thinking up an excuse. "I guess I zoned out. Kind of awkward place to be staring, I guess. Ha."

"Right." Riza replied, rolling her eyes.

"It's not like I…" Riza threw up a hand to interrupt him.

"I don't want to know." But something in her ghost of a smile told him that really, she already did.

Havoc was back.

And he tapped Edward on the shoulder, not unkindly.

"Mind if I cut in?"

"God help you. She's going to turn this damn dance into a mosh pit if she tries to get any closer to people." He left, and caught Roy's eye. Roy dismissed himself from Riza's side, and he and Edward went to stand outside in the cold together.

"How's the dance?" Roy asked when they were alone underneath a streetlight.

"It's alright."

"Looked like you were having fun."

"Eh."

"I was having fun watching you, anyway." He sounded predatory.

"I would've rather been dancing with you," Ed sighed wistfully. Roy took his hand.

"Come here."

"I can't leave without Winry."

"No one said anything about leaving. Just come here." They traveled into the parking lot, and Roy opened his car and fetched his keys from under the seat and put them in the ignition, and turned on the car and then stuck a CD in disk slot and turned up the volume to his stereo.

"Come here." Roy said again, and Edward and Roy came close together, and danced.

_Whenever I'm alone with you  
You make me feel like I am free again.  
Whenever I'm alone with you  
You make me feel like I am clean again._

And as they danced, not too far away could be heard the manically gleeful laughter of someone who sounded particularly like Maes Hughes, and the smattering of a hard-boiled egg on windshield.

"Edward," Winry interrupted suddenly, coming seemingly from nowhere. Edward and Roy drew apart quickly, each instantly missing his partner's warmth. "We've got to go."

"What?" And now that he looked at her, he noticed the streaming mascara down her face.

"I can't stay here anymore. We've got to go." She repeated.

"Okay, okay."

"Hey, I'll give you guys a ride, if you'll just give me a second to go talk to Riza."

"Okay," Edward said, and Winry and he clambered into the back seat of Roy's car.

Roy approached Riza.

"I gotta go. Young lady having a meltdown, can't get in touch with her parents."

"And so my evening truly begins. Don't bother coming back. Bradley's here, and I'm fairly certain I heard Hughes about before."

"Thanks. See you Monday." Roy turned and left, and Riza watched him go, suspecting that the mysterious lack of return of Edward Elric to the dance floor had to be less than coincidental to his own departure.

"Riza." It was Havoc. She knew by the smell. She turned to face him.

"Hello, Jean," she said congenially.

"Havoc." He grabbed her wrist. "You're the only person outside of my immediate family who calls me Jean."

"It's your name," she said softly.

"Riza," he said again, and clenched his jaw. Hawkeye waited, wondering why no one was staring, wondering why she was allowing this to happen. "I broke up with my girlfriend."

"I… am sorry to hear that."

"I broke up with her because I love you."

"I… see." Havoc stared at her.

"Do you?" Havoc sneered finally.

"I don't know what to say, Jean. You're seven year younger than I am, and you're my student."

"Well look at Mustang and Elric! That's clearly not stopping them!"

"We're not supposed to know about them. Ask me again if I do, and I won't."

"But you allow it! You obviously don't think it's wrong on principle! You're just afraid of falling in love with me!"

_How can I be afraid of that, when I've already done as much?_ "I do not interfere, but that doesn't mean I approve." _I do, because they're obviously meant to be together, but you don't have to know that._

"Goddamnit!" He bent and kissed her, and Riza froze, thankful that teenagers were far to self-absorbed to care about what went on on the sidelines. She wanted to respond to the kiss- every fibre of her begged to be allowed to- but she remained rigid. Havoc withdrew.

"Fine." He spat. "Fine." And then he stalked away.

"But you should know, my Dear," he said over his shoulder, regaining his casual demeanor, "this means war."

---

"You sure you don't want to come over, Winry?" Edward asked as Roy pulled up in front of Pinako's house.

"I'm sure," Winry answered, wiping the tears from her face. "I just want to sleep. Thanks, though. Thanks, Mr Mustang."

"See ya, Winry," Roy replied.

Edward clambered into the passenger's seat. "Still up for a night with the Elric boys?"

"If it's still open invitation."

"Of course it is." Edward leaned over and kissed Roy. "Mm. I'm glad you're my stress _relief_ now, as opposed to causation."

"Yeah, I just hope your _brother_ feels the same way about me."

---

A/N: Aw. Breakupangst. Speaking of angst, not much Alphonse this time around. I think he got, like, two scenes. Sorry, Alu-kun! Much more of him next chapter, I promise. By the third scene, I was fairly confident that I wasn't going to surpass my last word count. I am pleased to have proved myself wrong! 14,000 words! (Also, it is interesting to note that I took, for my own personal information, the word count of the eleventh chapter of the top ten of my favourite fanfictions [see my profile], as well as five others [using the nearest chapter if it didn't get that far], and discovered that the usual word count hovers around 3,000, and yet because the maximum value was about 13,900 words [and this sort of mammoth accomplishment was observed _twice_!], the average ended up being about 5,800 words, which is still well below my word count. My average for this story not including this chapter is 6,200.) This was such a slow chapter to write, because in the beginning the major plot device thus far was out of the way, and so all we had then is miniplot movement. But even with the shift in focus away from Roy and Ed for a bit, the story is still essentially about them, so don't worry that there will only be supplementary end-tying and side-character drama from this point on. Yes, the side characters definitely have huge roles, but a Roy/Ed story without Roy/Ed dynamics is effrontery to all that is fangirlism. Speaking of fangirlism, I made my second Kingdom Hearts allusion this chapter, as well as a Sailor Moon and a Pokémon reference. I hope no one minds my antics. I just like making my readers periodically wont to ask, "Wait, what the fuck was that?" XD

BY THE WAY. X-Files Two? **GREAT** MOVIE. WATCH.

Okay, and, in closing, I'm going to have a small challenge for you, because I'm a sucker for reader involvement of any kind. The theme is The Winter Ball. That's it. Go wild. Whatever medium you choose. The winner as selected by me will be entitled to asking me up to three YES OR NO answer questions about Damaged People (past, present, and yes, the future) and I will answer to the best of my ability, no matter how many spoilers I unleash. Maybe that will make up for my ridiculously slow update time? Okay, so, I hope some people actually try to enter. Submit a link to your entry via PM by January 31st, please! Good luck to all!

Daydreamishly.


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